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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052634">The Peacocking Poof and Straight Scots' Complete Cock Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepy_Ash03/pseuds/Sleepy_Ash03'>Sleepy_Ash03</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RocknRolla (2008)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Bi-Curiosity, Bisexuality, Crimes &amp; Criminals, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, First Time Blow Jobs, Gangs, Gun Violence, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:15:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,598</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052634</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepy_Ash03/pseuds/Sleepy_Ash03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Archy tasks The Wild Bunch with a dangerous job to steal a mysterious package. Along the way, the trio get caught up in a series of bi-curious conundrums, resurrected exes, Glascow mobsters, gang wars and other less-than-legal antics.</p><p>One Two is questioning his sanity as well as his sexuality, Handsome Bob only ever tops much to his Scottish conquests chagrin and Mumbles is done with his mate's bullshit. </p><p>All in all, nothing a good cuppa can't fix.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Archy/Johnny Quid, Handsome Bob/One Two (RocknRolla)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Two Mil Job and The Poker Game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One Two tasted trouble in the air, a bitter rust that followed Archy into The Speeler.</p><p>Silence shrouded the bar.<br/>
The poker game dissolved, a few older men scrambling away from the round table and leaving their money behind without hesitation. Even for crooks, money came second when Archy was involved.<br/>
Especially, if he was looking as furious, as he was now.<br/>
A thug, broad and quiet, trailed after Archy, lugging a sleek black briefcase. He paused when Archy did, mirroring his actions as if they had rehearsed their coordination. In his youthful features and nervous eyes, One Two gathered he was new to the job. The kid looked even younger than Bob, just barely out of his teens. In addition to the new recruit, Archy himself had considerably changed since they last met. A streak of grey ran through the thick, inky hair he swept back with gel – dirty snow coating pitch black tarmac. Lumbering across the bridge of his nose stood a brand new scar on his once unblemished face. The damaged skin looked ridged and pale on his olive complexion; the type of ugly mark that would not fade much with time. One Two knew. He had a few of his own.<br/>
Purplish bruises hung beneath his tired brown eyes, signifying just how much work went into being the right hand man of Mobster Johnny Quid. </p><p>One Two gave respect where deserved and Archy, the loyal twat who willingly stepped down from Mob Boss, was more than deserving. Even if Lenny Cole had screwed him (and the rest of them) over royally, Archy followed Johnny around like a trained dog. He thought the sober junkie a better fit for the role of Head Mobster around London, Christ knows why, and did not blame the son for his father's cowardly betrayal. Though a criminal through and through, Archy seemed to be a decent bloke, which was rare and hard to come by in the underbelly of London. One Two might consider him a mate, if he was not the type to bite anyone his owner ordered - friend and foe alike.<br/>
Archy strode to the table, now empty save for three, and loomed above them with a frightening intensity. His mild expression held the hint of something lethal and his eyes burned with purpose. Still, he carried himself with a strained semblance of casualness, hands buried in the pockets of his black slacks and shoulders relaxing beneath the wool fabric of his heavy, trench coat.<br/>
Cutting a quick glance to Bob and Mumbles, One Two gauged their reactions to the man's presence. Bob sat at the opposite end of the table, cards fanned out in his steady hands as he pondered his next move. Mumbles, having folded already thanks to One Two's bluff, lounged to his left and pocketed a few pounds their opponents had left behind in their rush to escape the situation.<br/>
"Archy, evenin'." One Two drawled, as he toyed with the deck of cards, fingers nimbly executing the Mongean Shuffle. Dealer this time around, he flicked two cards across the table to Bob and took one for himself.<br/>
His hand was a bust. A pair of eights and that was all.<br/>
Bob swooped up his cards and added them to his hand lazily. He had not mastered his poker face yet, but the ever-present cheeky grin stretching his lips and the sharp eyes tracing each of One Two's movements always felt intimidating when it was just them two. And it was just them too often; Bob and One Two facing off at the end of a poker game, wads of pounds lumped on the table between them. Each time, Bob seemed to get a better grasp of One Two's gameplay - how he bluffed, why he folded, when he knew he could win. No one else could read him, but Bob – the little shit had an eye for when One Two was lying, experienced it plenty of times.<br/>
"Mr. One Two, Mr. Mumbles..." Archy muttered, nodding in their direction and gesturing to Bob. "And Bob. Finish your game, I'll wait." One Two kicked out the empty chair to his right and tilted his head toward it.<br/>
"Have a seat." He encouraged, fingers dancing over his cards. "I'll deal ya in if, ye like."<br/>
"Watching s'fine." Grasping the chair, Archy turned it around and settled into it, arms hanging lazily over the back and legs spread.<br/>
"Got yerself a new lad, there." One Two commented. He eyed Bob with extra care, the mischevious way the younger man peeled back curved lips to reveal off-white teeth. Bob glanced to Archy's companion and gave One Two a look, brows rising in silent mockery. Bob snorted.<br/>
"Young, ain't he?" Mumbles, well, mumbled from his seat, giving the poor lad a withering glance.<br/>
"Just how Archy here likes 'em." One Two tacked on, Bob snickering in amusement.<br/>
"Piss off." Archy groaned, slouching into the chair.<br/>
"Where'd ya pick this bairn up? Don't keep him out past curfew."<br/>
"He's my new man, since Johnny offed Danny. Poor fella. I liked him."<br/>
"Replacin' a Gorilla with a Chimpanzee. You know how to pick 'em."<br/>
"Oh?" Pulling a box of cigs from his breast pocket, Archy flipped it open. "You mind?" When One Two shrugged, he placed one in his mouth and clicked his fingers. The kid rushed to his side, pulled out a lighter and coaxed a tiny flame at the end of the cig. Archy grinned around it. "You have someone else in mind?"<br/>
"Wouldn't know about lackies, only got The Wild Bunch here. Trust Bob and Mumbles more than meself most of the time."<br/>
"Aw, One Two, ya sentimental bastard. C'mere and give me a kissy." Bob puckered up and One Two flipped him off, gritting his teeth.<br/>
"Fuck off, ya poof." Gesturing to the kid behind Archy, the scotsman spat out. "Go rub dicks with that fairy and leave me out of it."<br/>
Bob looked at the startled lackie, appraising. "Ain't too bad..." His lopsided smile shifted to a wolfish grin and his voice dripped like honey – the sexy purr he once used on Bertie over the phone to get information. "But you know I like em rough... And Scottish."<br/>
Balking, One Two curled his lip in disgust and wondered where Bertie had disappeared to. When Bob was fucking that toff, One Two didn't have to deal with his horny mate coming onto him.<br/>
"I'll beat the living shit out of ya, if ye keep this bullshit up, Bobby." He warned, a flash of fiery hot anger shooting through him. One Two could not help it. He always flew off the handle, lost his temper at the slightest thing. Bob, especially, knew how to grind his gears. Ever since that night when they were cramped together in the car and Bob revealed too much of himself, the raw emotion beneath his goofy smile, something shifted between them. Before, One Two lead and Bob followed, hanging on his every word and, in a way, glorifying him. Bob believed his slightly romanticised tales of risky jobs and heroic escapes, laughed at his crass jokes and witty quips, accepted his bouts of rage and unfiltered remarks.<br/>
Now, Bob had One Two by the nose, tugging him round in loops and loops of charming gestures and seductive flirtations. His secret was out, <i>he</i> was out, and that gave the cute, loyal pup that wagged its tail, sharp fangs and a predator instinct.<br/>
Bob was still Bob, his best mate, but he was also different. Or at least One Two saw him differently. Confident and sharp, he seemed to have matured from the skittish, quiet wallflower. It was a good different, One Two decided. He liked to see Bob chatting merrily with customers at The Speeler, speaking up if he had an opinion on something when he usually stayed silent. Bob was flourishing, but he still gravitated to One Two, still got him in a way that only he could. Rather than avoid him after revealing his feelings, Bob faced him head on, unafraid. Even if the situation was tangled, One Two was proud; it felt like watching a younger brother thrive. </p><p>It was a good different, One Two told himself, even if it meant the loyal pup had turned to a hungry wolf and decided he was its next meal.</p><p>    "Nuff fooling around, finish the game." Mumbles interruted the fast-approaching argument between One Two and Bob. "Don't leave Archy waiting too long." Glaring at Bob, One Two inhaled stale, smoke-filled air into his burning lungs and gagged the uppity part of himself that wanted to flip the table. Bob was just playing with him, purposefully riling him up to tease him. If he caved in to the goading and snapped, he let Bob win, he knew that. Still, the smug grin his mate flashed made him see red. Tossing a hundred pound onto the table, One Two leaned back in his chair, eyes dark.<br/>
"All in." He growled, eyes clashing against Bob's muted sapphire orbs like a bolt of lightning. An electric shock seemed to pass through Bob and he shuddered, smile faltering for a split second. Archy, bored and impatient, patted the table next to Bob, pulling him from whatever he saw in One Two's eyes.<br/>
"Your play." Archy urged, crossing his arms over the back of the chair and resting his chin on them. The suited lackie carrying a brief case peaked over One Two's shoulder, but he hid his hand, giving the kid a sly wink. Bob did not like that. He never liked when One Two was friendly with men, even if it didn't mean the same as it did for him. One Two knew. Used it to push him, rush him into a play he had not thought through.<br/>
"I...!" Pausing, Bob glanced at his cards. His smile fell to a straight line, lips pinched and he glared at Archy's man, distracted from One Two.<br/>
If he was not looking, how could he read him? Bob may have learned his tells, may be able to predict his moves, but he was still wet behind the ears when it came down to who could outsmart who.<br/>
Just as Bob could read him, One Two could read Bob. Each minute detail; the way he watched One Two's fingers when he dealt, the small tick at the corner of his mouth that jumped whenever he got an unfavourable card, the game he talked with a voice that felt too cocky when really it was all just a bluff.<br/>
Bob had a good hand.<br/>
He played it rather calm for tonight's game, neither arrogant nor indecisive. Just cool and mocking – ruffling his feathers, so One Two would be angry, unfocused. On a wild guess, he thought Bob might have two pairs of face cards. The git always liked to go for black hands, so maybe two Queen Clubs. Either way, he had One Two bet as soon as the cards were dealt. But, every time they played poker and it came down to just them two, Bob never won. Learn his tells, call his bluffs, predict his moves – Bob mastered everything, except how to beat One Two.<br/>
Bob never won.<br/>
One Two wouldn't let him.</p><p>A tenseness blanketed the group huddled around the circular table. Bob looked to One Two, hesitant and thrown-off by the older man's steady gaze. He shuffled his feet beneath the table, eyes darting over the cards.<br/>
Clubs, One Two affirmed in his eyes, an automatic read that he could only ever achieve with Bob. They knew each other, trusted each other and in turn couldn't hide anything from each other.<br/>
Well, the whole being gay thing had certainly thrown One Two for a loop, but otherwise he was certain he could read Bob's thoughts if he tried hard enough.<br/>
Probably.<br/>
Don't quote him on that.<br/>
One Two ran a finger along his five cards, fanning them out and holding them calmly before his chest. Flicking his eyes up, he met Bob's gaze and stared deep into the pools of muddy blue. A wicked little smirk tilted the corner of One Two's lips, the one he'd use on a posh bird if she caught his fancy. Women loved it, especially when he dipped his tongue out to trace his pearly whites.<br/>
Apparently, bufties loved it too, because Bob seemed to cave beneath it.<br/>
Melting into his seat, cheeks aflame, Bob tossed his cards onto the table and huffed.<br/>
"Ain't fair." Bob breathed in a rush, hunching his shoulders in on his broad form. Mumbles chuckled and he cut the man a harsh look, before leaning back and scrubbing a hand over his face. He did not look at One Two.<br/>
"Well?" One Two poked, getting a small kick from the fierce eyes cutting into him. Bob looked like he wanted to jump over the table and punch One Two's mouth, so he would shut up. Instead, he lifelessly spoke the words One Two wished to hear.<br/>
"I fold."<br/>
Giddy, One Two revealed his bust hand and burst into raucous laughter. Bob, Mumbles and even Archy looked shocked at the pair of eights upturned on the table.<br/>
"What the fuck!" Bob cried, flipping over his cards in a rage. "I had a pair of Jack's. Clubs and all."  One Two practically wheezed, delighted that even his guess of Bob's hand had been accurate enough. Clutching his stomach, he chortled heartily, hand snaking to scoop the money toward him.<br/>
"Bloody bastard." Mumbles let slip a wry laugh, chagrin smile ghosting his face. "Ye had me fooled and all."<br/>
"Shoulda known One Two was pulling shit out his arse." Bob chastised himself, shaking his head ruefully. "Ya bollocks, shut ya damn mouth 'for I shove that garbage hand down your throat. Slimy piece of shit."<br/>
"Don't be like that now, Bobby-boy."One Two stashed his winnings in his wallet and nudged Bob' s foot under the table. "Ease up. Ye know yer my favourite to play with. I mean, I love winning and you never disappoint me, Handsome." Though Bob still looked livid, he couldn't help the small smile that graced his face at the sight of One Two's hearty laughter.<br/>
"Alright, alright." He shoved his hands in his pockets, slouching. "Laugh all ya want. That was a cheap trick."<br/>
"Sounds like a sore loser to me, how 'bout you Mr. Mumbles?"<br/>
"Definitely. A pretty smile and he's weak at the knees." Pinching Bob's cheek, Mumbles chuckled. "Oldest trick' n the book, 'at was, and ya still fell for it, eh?"<br/>
"I know, I know."<br/>
One Two kicked at Bob's leg again, voice rough and thick with laughter. "Bloody tosser's easier than half the birds I've fucked."<br/>
"Lay off, One Two." Bob wiggled his brows suggestively, fully recovered from his embarrassment. "Sexy piece of ass like you smiling all pretty like, couldn't resist giving in to ya, yeh?"<br/>
"You–!" A shiver of disgust ran down One Two's spine and he kicked Bob hard beneath the table, anger flaring in his gut. "Dirty fag– fucking... Christ, I'll murder you–!"<br/>
"Sorry lads, 'scuse the interruption, but I ain't 'ere for the poker game." Archy intervened dryly, disinterested in their meaningless tiff. "Got a job fer you lot, a few big ones split three ways. Ain't too bad, right?"<br/>
"Couple thousand?" One Two inquired, instantly losing interest in the bickering in favour of Archy's offer. Bob and Mumbles seemed to be just as attentive as him, leaning over each other to listen in.<br/>
"Two million pounds, in cash." Archy grinned, all sweet-like, and then gestured to his lackie. The kid hefted the briefcase onto the table in front of Archy, undid the latches either end and opened it. Lifting the lid, he twisted the case to face the trio. </p><p>One Two, Bob and Mumbles stared.</p><p>The winnings One Two had just earned seemed measly in comparison to the stack of hundred wads laid out neatly before them. The case was deep, each pound stuffed tightly together in two rows. One Two's mouth went dry, a feverish thrill, something akin to arousal, tingling at the base of his spine. If there was one thing he loved more than money, it was the anticipation of a big job and this briefcase promised One Two all the danger and adrenaline he could possibly need.<br/>
One Two always looked down on the junkies that frequented The Speeler, but in a way he was just like them.<br/>
Completely addicted.<br/>
Looking to Bob and Mumbles, he saw the same gleam of eagerness in their eyes as he felt deep in his core. They were mates for a reason. The three of them didn't need to be here, caught up in the criminal underworld. They wanted to, loved the feel of breaking rules and becoming powerful. Thrived on it.<br/>
"Here." Archy picked up a wad and tossed it to One Two, then one to Mumbles and lastly Bob. "Count it, if ya like. Its £500,000, washed and laundered to perfection. Had the Councillor himself run it threw a few offshore accounts. Completely legal, on paper." One Two stared down at the money in his hands, licking his thumb and flicking through each paper and practically moaning in satisfaction when he counted. Two rows of five £50,000 notes stuffed into that briefcase and the promise of a million and five hundred thousand pounds on the horizon. Sure, a job from Archy had got him in some trouble with a couple of Russians and almost eaten by cray fish, but he would be stupid to pass this opportunity up without hearing the details. Placing the wad back into the briefcase, One Two looked to his partners before setting a focused gaze on Archy.<br/>
"What's the job, this time?"<br/>
A grin breaking his composure, Archy patted the briefcase and sighed. "Thought you might be interested, 's why I came to you first. Johnny tacked on an extra mil, just to sweeten the deal and smooth over any wrinkles that old fart Lenny might've caused."<br/>
"Chuffed." One Two stretched his back and tilted his neck to the left and then right, stiff joints popping. "But Archy, y'ev already mended any rifts with our gang and Quid's Mob when you made sure that snitch got more than what he deserved. Only wish you hada kept him alive long enough for us to have a little fun. Me, Mumbles and Bob had a score to settle with the wanker."<br/>
"That's on me." Archy conceded, hands splayed. "Got meself in a right foul tizzy when I read that pseudonym on doc. Sidney Shaw..." After a moments silence, Archy pulled himself from his thoughts and smiled at Bob. "I owe you one for that, Handsome. If ye need help for somethin' – drugs, weapons, somebody you want to disappear... – you let me know, alright?"<br/>
"Thanks, Archy." Bob grinned, nodding his head in appreciation. "If you need a getaway driver fer anything, I'll be there. Appreciate you helpin' One Two with the Russians."<br/>
"Oi." One Two intoned, glancing to Bob as if he'd grown a second head. "I'll be the one payin' back my debts, Bobby. Mind yer damn business." He met Archy's gaze and nodded firmly. "As Bob said. Whatever you need, I'm there."<br/>
"So, Johnny's got a job for us?" Mumbles asked, fitting a wad of money back into the briefcase. Archy offered him a cigarette and Mumbles took him up on the offer, the lackie lighting it on reflex.<br/>
"Two mil reward, lads. It ain't no walk in the park." The stern mobster warned, puffing on his cig with languid motions. He flicked ash into the metal tray to his left. "Heard about the riots breaking out 'round London?" The trio nodded and Archy took another drag of his cig, the glowing ember sparking at the end of the rolled smoke. "Gang from Glascow has migrated up here recently, reckon they can get their grubs on the territory Lenny owned. Their Boss, man by the name of Brendan Grimsby, is lookin' to purchase the real estate agency from Johnny. Thinks he's chump, a washed-up Junkie desperate for a fix, so he ain't makin' no offer. Thinks he can off our Bossman and run us outta London. Proper tool, this fucker."<br/>
"Brendan Grimsby?" One Two gaped, a tremble running through his right hand. He dropped the wad of notes onto the table and balled his hands into fists, frown marring his features.<br/>
Bob questioned from across the table, concerned. "Know him?"<br/>
"Ay. Nasty piece of work, that man is." Unintentionally, One Two's accent thickened, as if the mere thought of Glascow pulled him into his past. "Worked for 'im a while back, when I was a wee lad. Barely out of diapers and he had me workin' a mule gig, carrying drugs back and forth between sellers. Mostly coc, but some of their own batches too. Ended up in a lot of trouble and the bastard Brendan gave me this 'ere scar." One Two unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the collar aside to reveal a bullet wound under his clavicle. "Aimed for my heart, but missed, thank Christ. Bloody psycho, he was. Wanted to cut a Glascow Smile into me to match his own while I was bleedin' out. For the first time in me life, I was glad when the cops showed up." The group was silent, thoughtful. Bob moved first, nudging One Two's leg under the table.<br/>
"Mental. Do ya 'ave any other scars?" Bob asked and One Two nodded enthusiastically, thankful for the excuse not to dwell on Brendan Grimsby.<br/>
"Plenty." Stripping his shirt off, One Two gestured to a knife wound on his shoulder, before catching sight of Bob's indecent expression. "What are you looking at, ye dirty fucker? Filthy animal!" One Two pulled his shirt back on, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. Being shirtless in front of Bob, felt like standing buck naked in a forest. Abrasive and chilling, eyes scouring exposed flesh the way the wind might explore the trees canopy.<br/>
Bob's eyes rounded, affectionate and playful. "Don't stop now, I was enjoying the strip tease."<br/>
"Strip–?!"<br/>
Archy leaned forward, grey shadows spilling from his lips as he muttered in a smoker's rasp. "Didn't know you had connections with the Glascow Mob, One Two." The hint of suspicion caught the three mates off guard and they turned to Archy. "Brendan is planning to kill Johnny, so if you ain't sure where your loyalties lie, decide carefully yeh? I'll blow a hole in your head if ya choose wrong." Pulling back his heavy coat and inner jacket, he revealed a Dornaus &amp; Dixon bren 10 fitted in a holster at his hip.<br/>
One Two shook his head wearily. "Down dog, I got no beef with Johnny, but I definitely wanna repay Brendan for the scar." His smiled dripped venom and he flipped a card over on the table.<br/>
The Ace of Hearts. He huffed a breathy laugh, hand coming to touch the old bullet wound a few inches over his vital organ.<br/>
"Good t' know." Archy held out his hand and the lackie placed a photo in his waiting palm. Placing it on the table, he gestured to the trio. "This 'ere is a safety deposit box centre up in the posh streets of Clerkenwell." One Two picked up the photo, skimmed his eyes over the building and handed it off to Mumbles. Archy continued. "Balthorne, might've heard of it? Place rich folks head to stash important things that they don't want no one lookin' at. Right next to Barclays Bank on Hatton Garden, so it flies under the radar, real legal like. No bizzies, sniffin' round where they ain't wanted. Private security and clientale so fucking rich, ya couldn't bribe your way in, even with the two mil waitin' with your names on it. Might take a bit of tinkering with cameras.<br/>
"In the back of that building, there are safety deposit boxes lined up in a room that don't exist as far as any employee's concerned. Rumour has it, Brendan Grimsby sent a bird down to Hatton Garden with a package. If ye can get that package to Johnny he'll pay you half of what he owes you."<br/>
"Half?" Mumbles looked to One Two, skeptical.<br/>
"£750,000." Bob whistled, leaning back in his chair. "The other half?"<br/>
"Comes after you finish a second job."<br/>
One Two hissed. "Secon job? Ya, didn't mention that. What does this second job entail?"<br/>
"Can't say." Archy smiled slowly. "Information's only accessible after ya finish the first job."<br/>
"Sounds suspicious." Mumbles warned One Two, who nodded along wearily. "But, question is, does the reward outweigh the trouble?"<br/>
"Certainly sounds like a great deal of hassle." One Two studied his partners and decided he should make the first move, as the leader and all. "Well, I'm on board. Two mil split three ways and a chance to pay back Brendan – I'd be a right tool to pass this up. "<br/>
"Archy wouldn't screw us over." Bob agreed, folding his arms in front of his chest.<br/>
"Ay and Johnny might be an ex-junkie, but he's certainly smarter than Lenny."<br/>
"No Russians this time." Archy assured, eyes lighting with humour. "And if you find that after the first job you don't have it in ya to take on the second, then we split ways. You take the 750 thou' plus this briefcase and Johhny keeps the other half."<br/>
"Mumbles, what do you think?" One Two turned to his partner, who closed his eyes in thought. After a few moments, Mumble opened his eyes and nodded, grin stretching his lips.<br/>
"Easy way to make a lot of quid." He slapped the hand One Two held out in excitement. "I'm in."<br/>
Bob tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling at loose threads and frayed edges. "Me too." He looked up with a cheeky smile. "Old geezers like you lot, would be fucked without my car."<br/>
"Shut up, ya tosser." One Two jabbed, flicking a card at Bob. The younger man flicked one back and they instantly fell into a card-flicking battle, hunched over the table.<br/>
"What's the details?" Mumbles ignored his childish partners and focused on Archy.<br/>
"The safety deposit box is numbered 573. Height of 11.8 by Width 11 with dimensions of 18.1 inches. Tungsten steel, the stuff they make bullets with." Archy slid a piece of paper across the table and One Two caught it, distracted from Bob. A card flew into his face.<br/>
"Fuck!" The Scots growled, as Bob dissolved into laughter, rocking back on the hind legs of his chair. One Two turned his attention to Archy. "What's this?"<br/>
"Name of a guy you can get some items from. Might help you get into the box."<br/>
"No key?"<br/>
"With Brendan in Glascow, we think." Archy flexed his fingers. "Can't risk alerting his attention by sending some men up to find it."<br/>
"Alright." One Two pocketed the folded slip of paper.<br/>
"Balthorne is open from 9am to 6pm, closed on weekends. A bank holiday is coming up in a few weeks, might be a good chance to slip in unnoticed. Less staff, but more security. Gotta be quick and clean." Archy closed the briefcase and inched it further onto the table. He stood and snuffed out his cigarette in the Ash tray. "Don't disappoint me, boys."<br/>
"Stick around for a game?" One Two offered, gesturing to the scattered deck of cards. "Go on, ya look like you could use a breather. Johnny got ya workin' nights?"<br/>
"Somethin' like that." Archy replied stiffly, adjusting the knot of his black tie so it sat neatly at collar of his shirt. "Can't stay. Have a rat to take care of in Essex. Give us a ring when you have the package."<br/>
"Will do." </p><p>Archy left with the new recruit, door shutting tightly behind them. Sucking in a breath of fresh air, Mumbles sagged in his seat.<br/>
"Shit." He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. He stood, moving to the bar and reaching behind to snatch a bottle of bourbon. "This screams bad news, mates." Mumbles poured himself a glass and downed it easily. One Two pulled the briefcase in front of him and popped it open, sighing at the sight of each pristine, beautiful note.<br/>
"Five hundred big ones!" One Two cried, tossing a wad to Bob. He picked it up, ran his fingers over each bill and grinned.<br/>
"And seven fifty after we finish the job." Bob enthused.<br/>
Mumbles sighed, looking between his partners. "Don't get caught up in the figures. They're there to blind ya. Archy ain't tellin' us somethin' and this Brendan lad seems a right old piece. You sure we should risk this, One Two."<br/>
"We'd be blind not to, Mumbles." One Two looked between his partners and closed the briefcase, standing to his full height. "I say we get on with this job, get the seven fifty and if there is any hint of somethin' fishy, we call it quits. Forget the Two Mil. Johnny won't take insult, he owes us one since we brought him to the hospital when his old man capped him. And if everything seems legit, we'll aim for the hard cash."<br/>
"Agreed." Mumbles pulled s out his phone and fired off a message. "This will take some serious plannin'."<br/>
"Don't even fret it," Bob jauntily flung his arm over the back of his chair, chest puffing with pride. "Youse have the best getaway driver in London."<br/>
"Sellin' yer self a bit short there, Bobski." One Two prattled, resting against the table with a devious glint in his eyes. "Best in England." Bob's smile turned genuine and he scratched the back of his head, cheeks flushing.<br/>
He muttered beneath his breath. "Thanks, One Two."<br/>
"Well, that's that!" One Two clapped his hands, rubbing them together in anticipation. Christ, he fucking loved a good job, especially one that payed this well. They had three weeks until the next bank holiday Monday, so One Two needed to form a strategy and meet up with this fella Archy recommended. Balthorne's Safety Deposit Centre would soon experience the worst break-in they've ever had and One Two would make sure it went off without a hitch. </p><p>One Two looked at Bob and Mumbles, eyes alight with the static energy hanging over The Speeler. He knew they felt just as excited, just as enthralled by the gig. One Two spoke, practically vibrating with the promise of a good thrill. </p><p>"Looks like The Wild Bunch has a job to do."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the first fanfiction I've published on Ao3, as the whole publishing process kind of confused me. Hope you enjoy this and please comment! (If any Handsome Bob x One Two shippers even exist anymore ; - ;).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Pint of Guinness and The Briefing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Handsome Bob had terrible taste in men.</p><p>He knew that, the boys at The Speeler's knew that and every bloke who weasled a quick hand job in alleys out of him knew that too. Still, he could not stop himself from finding straight, homophobic Scottish men incredibly attractive.</p><p>Finding One Two attractive. So God damn attractive. </p><p>The Speeler smelled of piss, and old beer, and men's cologne. Fred the Head gathered around the pool table with a bunch of mates, a few Junkie's sat at the bar, throwing back drinks they probably couldn't afford, and Handsome Bob hid in a booth in the corner of the room. Pressed against the window, he watched the grey clouds slowly creeping through the sky, drawing closer and closer to The Wild Bunch's home.<br/>
Bob waited on One Two to arrive. His partner phoned him an hour earlier and demanded they meet at The Speeler for a good old-fashioned, pre-job briefing. Before any important gig, Mumbles, One Two and he strategised about escape routes, weapons, schedules and other essential information. To pull off a job, any job, preparation was key and One Two always stressed how time was of the essence.<br/>
So, why the fuck was he so late to his own shite meeting?<br/>
The door to the bar shuddered open, a gust of wind impatiently pushing into the stuffy warmth as if desperate to escape the cold outside. Bob perked up, eyes wandering to the entrance where Mumble appeared, hanging up his coat. The man sighed, stretching his arms above his head and delving deeper into The Speeler. He stepped up to the bar, ordered a drink and then caught Bob's eye, flashing a warm smile from across the room. </p><p> "Oi, Bob." He called, rapping the counter with his knuckles lightly. "Want a drink?"<br/>
"Aye." Bob groaned, sinking low in his seat. "Carlsberg."<br/>
"Gimme a bit." Mumbles relayed the order to the bartender and then waited for the drinks, carrying a bottle, a can and a glass to Bob's little nook in the corner of the room. As he approached, he danced on his feet, moving to the 80s song playing on the cramped television customers used for betting. Setting down their drinks, he plopped into the cushioned double seater of the booth and exhaled with a laugh.<br/>
"I'm guessin' One Two called you 'ere as well?" Mumbles reached for his stout, a bottle of Thornbridge, and wedged the neck against the corner of the table. Slapping his hand down on the bottle, the cap popped off and clattered to the floor.<br/>
Bob nodded, pulling the can of Carlsberg closer. "Yeah, said somethin' about plannin' for the job."<br/>
"Mm." Pouring his drink into a pint glass, Mumbles nodded along to the music. He glared at Bob's Carlsberg in disappointment. "Can't believe you're still drinkin' that piss."<br/>
"Lay off. Taste's grand." Bob gestured to the empty bottle Mumbles set down in the middle of the table. "Why don't you just drink from the can? Always puttin' it in a glass..."<br/>
"It tastes better in a glass." Mumbles assured, nursing his stout with utmost care. He gulped down a few mouthfuls and exhaled happily, cream catching in his mustache.<br/>
"Doesn't make any sense."<br/>
"It does."<br/>
"Either way it tastes like gasoline." Bob popped open his can, a burst of vapour splashing across his hand. Foam bubbled up and spilled over his fingertips, soaking into the table. He shrugged, then took a sip.<br/>
Mumbles chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll take gasoline over piss any day." Reaching for the tray of nuts, he cracked one open and popped it in his mouth, biting down with a crunch. "Besides, at the very least Thornbridge is a real drink."<br/>
"What are you on about?"</p><p> "Carlsberg ain't the best anymore." He pointed out, gesturing at Bob vehemently. "It's a pilsner now. Danish."<br/>
"It was always Danish." Bob scrunched up his brows, confused. "What do 'at have to do with anything?"<br/>
"Well, now it's proper Danish." Mumbles shook his head, tapping the table. "It's a pilsner."<br/>
Staring at his partner, Bob furrowed his brows and drank from his can. It was about 10pm and people had started flooding into The Speeler, mostly friends of Fred's but a few unfamiliar faces too. All of the regulars had shown up and started exchanging greetings with the men at the pool table. Noise polluted the calm atmosphere and now even the 80s music sounded distant, a faint, catchy beat thrumming beneath ceaseless murmuring. Bob observed the growing crowd, searching for One Two without meaning to. All he found was a few birds making eyes at him from the bar. He ignored them, pulling his attention back to Mumbles.<br/>
"What's the difference between a pilsner and a stout – or any lager for that matter?" He asked, distracted. Toying with the tab on his beer, he glanced to the clock on the wall behind the bar that ran fourty-five minutes slow.</p><p> "Handsome, you disappoint me." Mumbles rubbed at his eyes, throwing an arm over the back of the double seater. He met Bob's  gaze and clicked his tongue sharply. "Lets forget 'bout Stout all together. It's got a different kind of make-up; ale yeast, I think. Really dark and bitter, but with this beautiful creamy note. " Mumbles drank from his glass, savouring the taste with a grin. Then, he gestured to Bob's can of Carlsberg, smile dropping. "Now, pilsners and lagers – that's a convoluted situation ya got on yer hands there, mate. Not a distinct difference, but somethin' any bloke worth his salt oughta know. Key is in the details. See, all pilsners are lagers, but not all lagers are pilsners."<br/>
Bob blinked, shaking his head. "Ya, fuckin' with me, right? What are you on? Comin' out with a load of shite, like that. "<br/>
"No, trust me, trust me. I wouldn't fool ya around like that, Handsome. I ain't One Two."<br/>
"Fair enough." Bob nodded, bitter over just how often One Two took the mickey. He gestured for his friend to continue.</p><p> "So lagers can be yellow as piss, pale as the skin of your ass or a nice amber, kinda like honey. Pilsners though, they're specifically only pale and they're fucking sold everywhere. Everyone's chuggin' pilsners and don't even realise it. Look at yourself, Handsome, your go-to drink is Carlsberg and ya didn't even know any of this. It's all about temperatures and conditioning. Pilsners and lagers are cumbersome problems, so it's best to sort it out in yer head, before orderin', chap. Confusin' them makes you sound like a right virgin, barely out of high school and not knowin' the difference between a cocktail and a whiskey. "<br/>
"Alright, easy." Bob drank from his can, a sharp twang hitting his tongue and warming his throat. "Unlike you, only been legal for me to drink, a couple of years now. How 'bout you? Been an odd hundred years since you were eighteen, 1920 somethin', right?"<br/>
"Piss off." Mumbles laughed, glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the bar. "You and I both know, we were drinkin' long before eighteen and I ain't older than you by much, lad." Bob snickered and Mumbles leaned over the table. "Couple o' birds back there lookin' us over. Up for a bit of playin'?"<br/>
Bob glanced at the girls, then back to Mumbles, hesitant. "I dunno, Mumbles. You know, I'm not..."<br/>
"You're Handsome Bob, though. Need ya to reel 'em in for me." He tilted his head. "Dibs on the blonde on the left." Thinking, Bob shook his head and leaned back in his seat.<br/>
"Nah, you go. Ain't in the mood and ya don't need me to hook 'em for ya." Bob grinned, teasing. "Blonde's been eyeing ya, since she arrived."<br/>
"I know." Mumbles splayed his hands, shrugging lightly. "Just didn't want to rub it in, mate. I'm gonna get her number, only be a sec."<br/>
"Go, go." Bob snorted as the man slid out of the booth and sauntered to the girls, spring in his step. </p><p>Slumping, Bob glanced up at the ceiling and exhaled. He really was not in the mood to chat up a few birds, or even drink tonight. The warm, comfy bed waiting for him at his apartment seemed more and more tempting as the minutes passed. He'd already been here for roughly two hours and One Two had not shown, which wasn't rare, but a disappointment all the same. He probably picked up a woman and forgot to cancel the meeting again. Sagging, Bob splayed out over the table and  played with a spare coaster. Rolling it back and forth, he scratched at his shaved head anxiously with his left hand.<br/>
He hated this. Feeling like this. Mumbles probably knew how he felt and that just made Bob nervous. Mumbles was perceptive, the first to realise he was...well...</p><p>And the first to notice how he looked at One Two. Not like a mate, not the normal way he should be looking at another man.</p><p>Grasping his Carlsberg, he chugged about half the can of beer – or pilsner, whatever – and pressed his forehead into the table. With a groan, he pounded his head against the sticky wood, simultaneously disgusted and too tired to care. He should probably head home after his drink, tell Mumbles to call if anything happened. The chatter and quiet beat of the music drummed into his skull and he closed his eyes, wondering if he should call Bertie. They had broken up – never really were anything – but for some reason Bob didn't want to go home alone tonight. And it was either his ex or one of the girls Mumbles was chatting up that he'd be leaving with. </p><p>Now, Bertie was a good guy, decent in bed too. Bit too clingy, but he could deal with that. Bertie was not straight, homophobic nor Scottish.</p><p>Bertie was not One Two.</p><p>Sighing, Bob reached for his drink, fingers brushing the cool can, before it was snatched from his grasp, steel scraping across wood. Peeling his head off the table, already frustrated with Mumbles enough to start throwing punches, he paused. Breath caught in his throat. Something in his stomach twisted sharply.<br/>
"Bobski!" One Two cried, a jolly grin stretching across his face as he swung Bob's Carlsberg back and forth from his fingers, teasing. "Sorry I'm late, took me ages to sort out a few things." He slid into the seat next to Bob, placing down his can and a glass on the table. "Saw Mumbles on the way in, cheeky bastard hoggin' all the birds. What are ya lookin' at? Somethin' on me face?" Bob straightened, hands falling to his lap as he pulled his gaze away from One Two.<br/>
"One Two." He greeted, pressing himself closer to the wall to try and expand the gap between them. "You're late, been waitin' ages."<br/>
"Anno." He chuckled, sliding the Carlsberg closer to Bob. "Come on, drink! Next one's on me to make up for it." Bob picked up his can and drank from it, eyes darting to the long, thick fingers spread out on the table; knuckles callused and reddish skin splattered with freckles.<br/>
He swallowed smoothly, the liquid hot in his throat and warming his chest.<br/>
"Thanks."</p><p> "So, whadida miss?" One Two rumbled out, words slurred and thickened by his gruff accent. He looked over to Bob, smiling. His eyes were blue. A pale, pale blue. As if each iris had been dyed a vibrant sapphire in youth, but the colour bleached and aged over the years. The warm pigments gave way to icy stone, yet somehow retained a flickering array of emotions; each flashing by with a unique pattern of frosted lilac flecks and navy, circling small pupils in two rings.<br/>
Bob breathed out in a rush. "Nothin'." He looked down at his can, shook it so the pilsner sloshed about inside noisily. "Mumbles and I was just talking 'bout beer. Wh-Which do you think is better?" He blurted out, nerves singing, trembling beneath his skin at the close proximity. They sat side by side, their legs a hair's breadth away. If Bob scooted to the right, just a little, their thighs would touch. He pressed farther to his left, head falling against the window.</p><p> It felt too much like <i>that</i> moment. The moment he didn't want to talk about, didn't want to think about. Where Bob sat in a car, One Two driving, the AC blasting so it felt hot – <i>too fucking hot</i> –and he looked to his right, the words tumbling out before he could think, and he faced five years in an eight by ten, so he thought maybe, maybe he wouldn't regret saying what he had wanted to say for so long, but then, the prosecution lost the paperwork – he was free, and One Two knew, Bob <i>told</i> him, and his world was falling apart–</p><p>Bob inhaled shakily, fingers tightening on the can. The aluminium wrinkled beneath his grip, so he eased up, heart pounding in his chest.<br/>
"Carlsberg or Thornbridge." He clarified, lifting his can to his lips, just to have something to do. He drank the last mouthful and curled in on himself, rolling the can between his hands nervously.<br/>
One Two looked him over, pale eyes alight with humour. Then, he broke out into a charming grin, thin lips stretched wide as his teeth flashed. He lifted his pint of black liquid and raised it to Bob, as if to cheers. Bob scrambled with his empty can, knocking it against the glass. </p><p> "It's Guinness for me, Handsome." </p><p>One Two laughed and took a swig of his drink, throat bobbing with each gulp. He slammed his glass back down hard and gasped in satisfaction, foam shining on his upper lip. His mouth was wet and he wiped it with the back of his hand, tanned skin crinkling around his eyes with delight. </p><p>Bob studied him carefully. The short brown hair he styled carefully curled at the nape of his neck, tan lines cutting off just above his t-shirt. Beneath the fabric, Bob caught a glimpse of paler skin – sun-kissed in comparison to his lightly bronzed and reddish face. His jaw was square, a harsh line curving up to his ear, and the junction between his neck and shoulder had a low slope dipping beneath his t-shirt. A wide collarbone stretched to broad shoulders and his Adam's Apple bobbed when he spoke or swallowed, patches of unshaved hair marring the smooth skin. He had a soft nine o'clock shadow and when he smiled, a dimple appeared in his left cheek. The cleft in his chin was shallow and his thin lips coloured a dusty pink, fine and chapped. He had very masculine bone structure, firm and ruggish, with a slightly crooked nose, probably broken once or twice. Beneath bushy, furrowed brows, peered narrow, pale eyes and wrinkles marred his forehead. Under the dull, orange lights, shadows played on his face, darkening his features so he looked tired. </p><p>One Two yawned as if confirming his suspicions and then tilted his head at Bob, eyes wide. He asked something and maybe it was the noise or the way his lips moved, but Bob couldn't hear a thing. One Two leaned in all of a sudden, too fast. He startled when their knees brushed, practically jumping out of his seat, and One Two placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing him away from the safety of his corner by the window. Strong fingers spanned his shoulder and some of his neck and breath brushed over his face, the scent of alcohol and smoke.<br/>
Their eyes met.</p><p> "You want another drink?" One Two spoke, voice loud and deep. His lips moved quickly and the Scottish accent had a gritty depth to it that sent a shudder down Bob's spine. He smelled of expensive cologne, rich and woody with a sweet hint that maybe resembled some sort of berry. Bob couldn't quite tell with all the other scents in the bar mingling.<br/>
"Yes." Bob choked out. He felt warm, heat bleeding from One Two's fingertips, from the place where their knees met and seeping deep into his bones. Limp and pliable, he melted under the man's gaze, caged in by the taller body.<br/>
"What do you want?" One Two shifted closer, probably to hear his answer, but it sent Bob's mind spinning. He fisted his jeans, fingers twisting in the tough fabric and swallowed thickly. His face burned as he replied.</p><p> "Pint of Guinness."</p><p>One Two's smile turned practically cheery and his eyes lit up with excitement as he slid back, hand falling from his shoulder. <i>Be right back,</i> he mouthed as he left the booth and disappeared into the crowd.  Groaning, Bob pressed his fingers into his temples and rubbed firmly. </p><p> "I heard that." Mumbles announced, sliding into the seat across from him, eyes alight with amusement. Bob glared, dropping his head to the table once more and groaning louder. "Pint of Guinness." He parrotted, holding his hands to his heart, dark eyes wide and innocent. "Anything you say One Two, if it means we can dance again. "<br/>
"Just..." Bob scratched his head, throwing his hands up with no enthusiasm. "Why are you 'ere? Thought you were chattin' up some birds." Mumbles pulled out his phone and waved it about, head bobbing to the beat of the music in the bar.<br/>
He smirked. "Got all their numbers and had a lovely little snog with the Blonde in the toilets while you were over 'ere pining, Handsome." A light, playful chuckled spilled from his lips. "I move fast. "<br/>
"Probably cum fast too, premie." Bob hissed, crumpling his empty can of Carlsberg and chucking it at the bin. It missed, ricocheted off the wall and clattered back across the floor to their table. He  scoffed, rolling his eyes.<br/>
"Whoa, whoa, what's all this?" Mumbles held up his hands, placating. "No need to get so bent outta shape, beg him enough and One Two will cave to much more than a dance in a gay bar."<br/>
"What are you–?! " Ducking his head, Bob scoured the crowd in search of One Two and spotted him by the bar, out of ear shot thankfully. "Would you...Just– Be quiet." He snapped, throwing his middle finger to his partner.<br/>
Mumbles sat back and laughed softly. "Alright, sorry. So, what's got you in a tizzy then?"<br/>
"I don't want to talk about it."<br/>
"You sure?"<br/>
"I'm sure."<br/>
"Really?" Mumbles leaned closer, gentle and understanding. "No judgement, yeah?"<br/>
"Look, no, I appreciate it, but... " Bob paused, head flying up and eyes locking with Mumbles chocolate orbs. "Wait, did you say dance?"<br/>
Mumbles shook his head. "What?"<br/>
"You said...somethin' about One Two and I..." He nodded along meaningfully, but Mumbles didn't move to finish the sentence. Bob practically whispered. "Dancin'."<br/>
"Yeah." Mumbles grabbed a handful of peanuts and started cracking shells, popping a few in his mouth. "Before, when you were facin' those five years, you convinced One Two to dance a little."<br/>
"Yeah." Bob nodded, fiddling with the coaster. "Yeah! So, he told you 'bout that."<br/>
"Mm." Biting down on a nut, Mumbles shrugged, noncommittal. Bob lifted the coaster and examined the Budweiser logo, before twirling it between his fingers. Mumbles watched him with an ambiguous smile.<br/>
Quietly, Bob muttered. "Then, um, what did he...did he say anything?"<br/>
"Not much."<br/>
"No?" Placing the coaster on the table, he started picking at the rubber lining, peeling the felt surface off. "Nothing at all?"<br/>
"He was kind of antsy about it, uncomfortable."<br/>
"Oh." Bob laughed stiffly, looking down. "Yeah, I guess that's–"<br/>
"Then, I told him 'bout how you looked after his Mum when he went down. Talked you up."<br/>
"What? I didn't ask you to –"<br/>
"You didn't have to." Mumbles offered a nut, smiling. "Wingman, mate."<br/>
"You..." Bob took the peanut, chewing anxiously and enjoying the dry roasted coating on his tongue. "Was just worried about her. One Two always said she had a bad heart and I knew he'd be upset if when he got out, his Mum was a mess. Thought I could just help out a little... " Closing his mouth, he sank into his seat, embarrassed.<br/>
Mumbles punched his arm. "Well, it worked!"<br/>
"I didn't do it to–"<br/>
"One Two looked really chuffed." Wiggling his eyebrows, Mumbles took a drink from his stout. "Thought he might head over to yours and blow you out of gratitude. And I'd respect that, 'cause mates need to step up in situations like 'at. "</p><p> "Blow–What?!" Bob gasped, cheeks heating with the thousands of scenarios running through his mind. "No!" He shook his head, wildly. "That didn't happen and that never will happen. One Two and I, we're mates. I don't see him like...think of him like tha–Bertie! I have Bertie."<br/>
"That tosser?" Mumbles nodded, gesturing vaguely. "Whatever happened to him?"<br/>
"I  dunno." Bob avoided eye contact, sweat pooling in his palms. He really should not have brought that up. "Maybe he started getting a bit too clingy and like, askin' me to run away with him... to Scotland where... he'd be my... my Sugar Daddy and –"<br/>
"WHAT." Mumbles roared, eyes widening. He burst into laughter, coughing up a few peanuts and slamming his hand down on the table noisily.<br/>
"Shhh!" Bob startled, eyes darting to One Two in alarm. He had gravitated to a few women and though usually that would irritate Bob, he was thankful for the distraction. "Shut up! Jesus, it's not that bad."<br/>
"What the fuck?" Mumbles choked, coughing as tears spilled from his eyes. "Sugar Daddy, fucking Sugar Daddy. Handsome, how the shit did you make that toff fall so hard– " He cut himself off with a fit of more giggling and Bob threw up his hands, sinking low in his seat.<br/>
"I dunno....Laid the charm on a bit too thick, maybe?" Bob shook his head. "Idiot kept callin' me baby and buying me shit–"<br/>
Mumbles wheezed. "Baby?! You are fucking with me. You 'ave to be. I can't breathe Handsome, tell me you are takin' the piss."<br/>
"I think he liked that I was involved in crime..."<br/>
"Might be a kink." Mumbles considered, but Bob shook his head with a frown.<br/>
"Nah, he was just so rich he didn't know what to do with his money."<br/>
"But there are a lot of poofs into that scene."<br/>
"How would you know?"</p><p>Mumbles closed his eyes, exhaling heavily. "Went through a weird phase in my twenties."<br/>
"Ugh." Bob wrinkled his nose in disgust, waving his hand at Mumbles. "Fucking straights, bloody weirdos. Look, none of that even matters." He leaned over the table and tossed the coaster to one side. Mumbles met him halfway, munching on nuts. "All I wanted to say is One Two and I had a dance and that was it. Nothin' more. He ain't...like that."<br/>
"A <i>slow</i> dance." Mumbles teased, drawing out the 'o' with a suggestive wink.<br/>
"Have off, I was headin' to prison–" Bob caught sight of One Two walking toward them and his heart leapt out of his chest, face paling. "Shut up. He's coming. One Two is coming."<br/>
Mumbles ignored him, pointing with a firm finger. "Slow dancin' can be kinky."<br/>
"No. Be quiet."<br/>
"Bit of grindin'... "<br/>
"Please no."</p><p> "Quick grope... " Mumbles nodded, drinking from his glass. "Don't tell me you didn't have a feel of his arse."<br/>
"Shut up!" Bob stressed, leaning closer to whisper angrily. "He's comin'. He's like, right there. Don't do this to me, mate. I'm serious–"<br/>
"What am I doin'? Just admit slow dancin' is kinky."<br/>
"It's not kinky! Married people do it, it's like...sweet. "<br/>
"You know what else married people do?" Mumbles clicked his fingers. "BDSM."<br/>
"What?!"<br/>
"Bondage, dominan–"<br/>
"Jesus Christ!" Placing a hand in front of his face, Bob glared daggers at Mumbles. "Shut up. Please, I'm beggin' you. He's comin' over, he's comin' over. Oh, he's right there, he's right here–"</p><p> "Oi!" One Two stared at Bob and Mumbles in confusion, setting down two glasses of Guinness. "What are you two shits whisperin' about? You look like a couple of faggs in the corner of a bar decidin' who's dickin' down the other – no offence, Bobski."<br/>
"S'fine, One Two." Bob sank back in his chair, pressing close to the wall. Mumbles laughed, pushing the bowl of peanuts to One Two.<br/>
"Want some?" He offered and One Two nodded, sliding in across from Mumbles. Bob froze up, eyes widening as he thought One Two would sit next to the other man. Mumbles eyebrows climbed his forehead and he settled into a shit-eating grin.<br/>
"What's so funny?" One Two asked, eyes flitting between his two partners.<br/>
"Nothin'." Bob blurted. "Absolutely nothin'."<br/>
"Just Bob being Bertie's Sugar Baby." The statement hung in the air for a moment and a rush of embarrassment burned through Bob's chest like a white hot iron.<br/>
One Two gaped at him, hint of a smirk tugging on his lips. "You what?"<br/>
"No." Bob reputed, heated glare cutting to Mumbles. "No. Bertie just...Look we broke up now, so it's fine."<br/>
One Two furrowed his brows. "You broke up?" He shifted closer, eyeing Bob with a soft look that tore up his insides. "You alright?"<br/>
Bob couldn't bare to look at Mumbles, digging his shoulder blades into the window ledge behind him. "I'm fine. We...We weren't really anything anyway."<br/>
"Just fuck buddies then?" Mumbles chipped in and Bob slammed his hand down on the table, looking away from One Two's pristine, cyan gaze. </p><p> "Shut up!" Bob growled. "Just shut the fuck up. Can we... " His eyes narrowed, falling to the cuff of his jumper sleeve. He picked at it, pulling in the rough thread and watching the frayed edge unravel. When he spoke again, his voice sounded too quiet against the noise in the pub. "Can we get on with this meeting?"<br/>
"Course, Bobby." One Two clapped him on the shoulder, quick to intervene before a tense silence could ensue. The gesture almost made him feel better. </p><p>Mumbles was just fucking with him, he knew. Honestly, he didn't usually mind the crass jokes his friends often spewed about his sexuality, because they made the same offensive jokes about each other's tastes in women. That was just how The Wild Bunch were; crude and rough around the edges. Now, though, with One Two beside him and finally treating him as he used to – grabbing his shoulder, sitting next to him and joking with him – Mumbles' words were dangerous. He didn't want things to go back to after that moment in the car. Stiff, uncomfortable and awkward, an unbreachable distance between him and One Two. As if a wall had been erected. One Two's eyes cold, his smiles waxing as soon as they appeared and no physical contact. Worse, what if their relationship regressed to that moment in the car? With One Two's venomous words, his fury burning through Bob with his own shame and the horrible, haunting feeling of bearing himself completely and being rejected.</p><p>No, Bob couldn't go back to that. Ever.</p><p>Swallowing thickly, he chanced a glance to Mumbles, already apologetic for his harsh tone. The man merely smiled, around his stout. Thanking Christ for his amiable friend, he felt himself relaxing next to One Two.<br/>
"Alright." The Scot announced, placing his pint down and grinning ear to ear. "We need to hash out the details for this job." He pulled out a small notebook, something a rozzer might use to write a citation, and flipped it open on the table. Twirled it, so both Mumbles and Bob could see the poorly drawn map of a building's ground floor. Bob looked it over carefully, eyes glazing over the entrance that led to a small reception area and a much larger room behind that. "This is the layout of Balthorne. Monday to Friday they have security by this back room. Just one muscle-for-hire type." One Two tapped the large room on the drawing. "This is where all the safety deposit boxes are held, columns lining every wall. Each box is numbered, from 1 to 490."<br/>
"490?" Mumbles questioned, leaning closer to view the map. "Can't be right, Archy said we're lookin' for number 573."<br/>
"That's a lot of boxes unaccounted for." Bob agreed, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. One Two moved, grasping his drink and taking a swig. Cream caught on his upper lip and his pink tongue darted out to lick it, Bob's eyes following the movement with a sharp focus they had not held when viewing the map. One Two swallowed, throat bobbing and he looked to Bob. Their eyes met, but the shorter looked away quickly.<br/>
"I'm getting' there, if ya'd let me finish." One Two explained, exasperated. "Eighty-three boxes vanished into thin air, if Archy's intel is correct. Can't say for sure, but I have a feeling Balthorne has something on their second floor. Probably safety deposit boxes for the suspiciously rich folk. Two-story building, but the stairs are blocked off from customers. "<br/>
Wary, Bob inquired, lost as to how One Two always knew a way, a method to finish any job. "Where are you getting all this information?"<br/>
"Paid a homeless man to scope the place out for me yesterday."<br/>
"You're prepared." Mumbles noted, amused and One Two practically jumped out of his seat with his vehemence.</p><p> "Damn fucking right I am. Seven fifty thou' on the line lads... " He studied his partners each in turn, pale eyes serious and attentive. "You all better come fucking prepared."<br/>
"We will." Bob assured, staring back at One Two with a steady gaze. "You can trust us, One Two."<br/>
"Ay." One Two grinned. "I know."</p><p> "So, what's the plan?" Mumbles interlaced his fingers. One Two shifted, turning to face his partners. His thigh pressed to Bob's and their elbows knocked, a painful twang shooting up his arm. Bob withered, pulling his arm to his side and urging himself to pay attention.<br/>
"There's a Bank Holiday Monday in two weeks and three days. Security will be tight, two private men at the entrance and a few inside as well from what I can tell. It'll be our best chance to get to the second floor. Any other day, there would be too many witnesses. Three cameras – here, here and... " One Two pointed at a trio of red dots marked near the entrance, the backroom and a corner beside the reception. "Here. No keys on the premises, they're all with box owners. We'll need to visit the man Archy recommended." One Two held out a crumpled up piece of paper, handing it off to Bob. It read: </p><p>
  <i>Colin McKierney. 34, Cheshire street, Bethnal Green.</i>
</p><p>Bob passed the paper to Mumbles' awaiting hand and One Two continued. "Has a way to get into those boxes. We'll head there Wednesday, drop Johnny's name and get out of there with whatever it is he'll have. No point stickin' around for too long, don't want this bloke pickin' our faces out of the stream of customers. Dress down, casual and unnoticeable. Might be a bit dangerous, Bob do you mind drivin' me and Mumbles?"<br/>
"Not me." Mumbles flicked a peanut shell at One Two, nodding to the blonde across the room staring at him. "Got a date with that beauty. Sabrina."<br/>
"Mumbles, what the fuck are you talkin' about? " One Two exclaimed, irate. "This is our job, the job. The fucking job that we get paid £750, 000 to fucking do. And yer talkin' about skippin' out fer some broad. Ya have balls, I'll tell you that."<br/>
"I do indeed, mate. Two huge, blue and beautiful balls, in desperate need of a good fuck." Looking over his shoulder at the blonde, Mumbles waved. "Besides, this isn't the job. This is an errand. I'm pretty sure you and Handsome 'ere can pick up whatever it is this chap will hand off. If you're scared One Two, our driver will play dashing knight, hold your hand and take you for a relaxin' stroll afterward. "<br/>
"What?!" One Two grit out, leaning over to smack Mumbles head. "Shut yer trap. It's just one date, blow it off Mumbles. Was countin' on you to... " He glanced to Bob and reiterated, shifting away. "Never mind. We can handle it. Have yer date, ya bleedin' dobber."<br/>
"Dobber?" Bob questioned.</p><p> One Two rolled his eyes. "Scottish fer cock, Bobski." He ignored Mumbles and turned to fully face Bob. "How 'bout you, then? Able to make it Wednesday or do you have some other, more important plans?" The venom in One Two's voice went unnoticed by Mumbles who continued to flirt with the Blonde from a distance. Bob thought for a second. If he were honest, he had arranged to visit his grandmother on Wednesday; watch TV with her and listen to her knitting needles clack noisily. However, seeing how bothered One Two was by Mumbles' busy schedule, he decided his grandmother could wait until the weekend.<br/>
"I'm free." Bob spoke. "You can count on me." A wide, pleased smile sprouted on One Two's face and he threw an arm around Bob's shoulders, pulling him into his side.<br/>
"Atta boy, that's Handsome for ya." One Two enthused, grabbing his pint and drinkin' happily. He leaned down to Bob's ear and whispered dryly. "Have a drink, mate." Breath squeezed from his lungs, Bob grappled for the tall glass of black liquid in front of him. When he lifted it, One Two rammed his glass against it, laughing heartily. "Cheers!" Bob took a sip, a fresh sharpness cutting his tongue before a soothing, creamy texture glazed his lips and eased the burn. He swallowed, warmth pooling in his chest and he licked his lips, satisfied. Carlsberg was better, in his opinion, but he understood why One Two liked this. "How'd you like your Guinness?" </p><p> "It's good." Bob agreed, smiling softly as he stared down at the drink. One Two gave his shoulder a light squeeze, before pulling away. The right side of Bob's body went cold and he shivered, pulling his drink to his lips once more. He gulped down a few mouthfuls, trying to burn away the chilling sensation from the inside.<br/>
"Knew you'd like it." One Two commented, pulling the notebook toward them. He flicked through the pages, ripped one out and handed it to Bob. "Here. Time and address. Mind pickin' me up beforehand?"<br/>
"N-No." Bob took the paper, their fingers grazing and pushed it into his pocket. "I'll be there."<br/>
"The plan for Balthorne will depend on whatever this guy gives us, so we have to make sure we find a way to get into the deposit box before Monday. Mumbles," The man turned to One Two, brows raising in question. "I'll need you to get in contact with someone who can disable cameras." One Two muttered, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I would say the usual stockings would be enough, but I don't want to leave any trace of us behind. Brendan Grimsby can be a resourceful fella when he wants to and I have a feelin' he thinks I'm dead."<br/>
"Why?"</p><p> "Because if he knew I was alive, he would've sent someone to kill me by now." </p><p> "Jesus Christ." Mumbles cracked open a peanut and started chewing on it. "You sure you're up for this? I get that it's a big reward, but you are the only one who is connected. If you're not careful, One Two, you might end up on someone's shit list."<br/>
"What's one more list? I'm on plenty." One Two joked, smiling lightly. When Bob and Mumbles just stared in concern, One Two sighed, sinking into the seat. "Look, I'll be careful. I have a far better gig than dealin' now and I don't plan on losin' it. And I got The Wild Bunch backin' me, so I ain't too worried." Bob grinned and Mumbles sat back proudly.</p><p> "Well put." Mumbles grabbed his glass and stood. "We can finish the briefing after you meet that bloke on Wednesday. For now, let's celebrate the job! Seven-fifty thousand pounds!"<br/>
"Ay!" One Two cheered, raising his glass in joy.<br/>
Mumbles gestured to them both. "Need a drink?"<br/>
"I'm good." Bob drank from his Guinness calmly and One Two grinned cheekily.<br/>
"Would kill for a packet of crisps."<br/>
"Flavour?"<br/>
"Prawn cocktail."<br/>
"Ya fucking fag." Mumbles snorted, whirling on his heels and marching off.</p><p> "Oi!" One Two shouted, slamming his hand onto the table. "It's the best flavour, you mong." He turned to Bob, furious. "What's your favourite?"<br/>
Bob hesitated. "Cheese and onion."</p><p>"Christ I'm gayer than the poof." One Two grumbled and laughter spluttered out of Bob's mouth uncontrollably. He clutched his stomach and wheezed. "Think that's funny? I'll beat the shit out of you, fairy bastard." One Two pounced on him and they wrestled on the seat, awkwardly avoiding punches in the tight space, until Mumbles returned with a refill. He sat down across from them, held up his glass and grinned widely.</p><p> "To The Wild Bunch." He called, excited and probably a little tipsy.<br/>
One Two pulled himself off Bob and picked up his glass. He thrust it forward, foam spilling over and splashing onto the table. Bob copied, raising his own glass and sitting up straight.<br/>
The three men smashed their glasses together with a loud clatter and an explosion of alcohol that spilled over their fingers. In unison, they roared.</p><p> "To the Wild Bunch!"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Honestly, I find British slang easier to write with than American since I'm from Ireland. Still have to open a glossary for Scottish slang tho, lol.<br/>Hope you are enjoying this!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chav Threads and The McKierney's Method</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry that this is so late! I'm just busy with school and I have like seven other fics to update on wattpad lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chap and thank you so much for all the kind comments! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One Two glared at his reflection, lip curling in distaste.</p><p>He looked ridiculous.</p><p>For special occasions, One Two tended to dress to impress. Not one to be outdone, he aspired to be a classy, sophisticated, attractive gentleman and to the ladies that meant slacks, a dinner shirt and some expensive shoes. Slap on a nice watch, maybe an overcoat if it was chilly and One Two had, what he considered, perfect date attire.<br/>
On a daily basis, he gravitated more towards a pair of well-fitted jeans and a nice jumper. V-neck, block colour t-shirts in shades of grey and black were comfortable on warm days and if he wanted to put in a little more effort he would add a thick belt and an aviator jacket.<br/>
Either way, One Two always looked good.<br/>
Fashion, however, needed to take a backseat for the current job.<br/>
Bob would arrive soon, they would visit Colin McKierney, the man Archy put them in contact with, and apprehend a way of getting into the safety deposit box in Balthorne.<br/>
In order to be as inconspicuous as possible, they needed to dress appropriately. </p><p>Which, in this case, meant dress down. </p><p>The full length mirror in front of One Two somehow enhanced every horribly tasteless feature of his outfit. Pulling out flaws and revealing every inch of untailored fabric, his reflection mocked him with its honesty.<br/>
From the bulky, beat-up trainers on his feet – unlaced and  labelled with a misspelled, popular logo – to the silver chain dangling from his neck in accordance with the tacky style, One Two looked like a completely different person.<br/>
Grey, baggy sweatpants sagged at his hips, dipping low at his crotch and sinching in at his ankles. The material was itchy and made his arse look as flat as one of his freshly-ironed dress shirts. A slip of his offensively colourful boxers – a zebra print in  pink and black – peaked up over his waistband, demanding attention. He tucked a small segment of his ill-fitted, white t-shirt into his boxers and let the rest of the loose fabric hang lifelessly. The thin, semi-translucent material seemed to cloak his toned figure, making his broad shoulders look shapeless and scrawny. A cheap hoodie draped lazily over his shoulders sported garish, yellow crushed-velvet. The colour was burnt and faded, but still oppressively present; egg yolk spilled over the white of his t-shirt. He looked like a lightly goldened fry from a dirty chipper or a buttercup sprouting in a crack on the pavement.<br/>
Cookie hooked One Two up with the clothes for the job, promised him they would be exactly what he wanted.<br/>
No one wanted this.<br/>
Rather than a run of the mil Eastender, One Two looked like an old man trying to stay 'hip with the kids.'  The mismatched sweatsuit and scuffed high tops were incredibly uncomfortable, like some sort of sagging and ugly second skin. Every article of clothing felt misplaced, mismatched and like some terrible mistake. The man Archy suggested to fix their problem would never buy One Two in these clothes, even without knowing him personally.<br/>
Not only were they sinfully wrong on him, but One Two felt wrong in them. Where he usually left his apartment full of confidence, right now he felt like a hideous beast that could never venture outside again. </p><p>Glaring at his reflection, One Two wondered if he could change into some of his more casual clothes and bin the atrocious outfit. Surely, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt would be less conspicuous than whatever this  was and far more tolerable on the eyes too. Cookie had to be taking the piss with these clothes. Nobody in their right mind would wear something so loud and distasteful, unless they were incredibly rich or incredibly stupid.<br/>
If he changed fast enough, Bob would never need to know...</p><p>A car horn beeped from outside and One Two hurried to the window, peering down at the Nissan Juke waiting  on the curbside in front of his apartment. The driver door opened, Bob stepping out and One Two jumped out of sight.<br/>
Guess I'm stuck with this outfit... He thought, heart dropping as he slid his phone into his pocket. Moving to his bedside table, he pulled open the last drawer and grabbed the P99 hangun. He loaded it, shoving the magazine into the handle with a satisfying click. Sliding it into the waistband of his pants, he pulled his hoodie down over it and picked up his keys. He left his apartment, locked the door – a habit he obtained after two Russians broke in – and jogged quickly down the stairs. He hit the bottom of the stairs and paused before the front door to his apartment building.<br/>
Tugging on the chain at his neck, with a frown, he took a deep breath and opened the door.<br/>
Bob paced back and forth impatiently before the car, unaware of his presence. One Two stared at him for a moment, disgruntled by how sickeningly normal he looked. Bob always dressed rather plain. T-shirts and shorts, jumpers when the seasons grew colder. The only difference with his outfit this time, was a fleece zip-up and a faded black peak cap he wore backwards.<br/>
It was completely unfair that Bob got to look almost good and trendy, while One Two was stuck with the mid-life crisis aesthetic of zebra prints and vibrant colours.</p><p>Sucking in a deep breath, One Two stuffed his hands in his pockets and pranced forward with an ironically, wide-legged and bouncy gait. As he approached, Bob looked up and froze midstep; unbalanced and rocking back and forth on his right foot precariously. One Two stopped in front of him, stretching his arms out wide and gesturing to himself in exasperation.<br/>
"Well?" He crossed his legs and twirled, spinning back around to meet Bob's wavering gaze. "Suit me?"<br/>
Wordlessly, Bob looked One Two up and down, face void of emotion. He placed a hand to his mouth and frowned, eyes crinkling in amusement.<br/>
Bob's voice shook with soft laughter. "This is..." He looked One Two over one more time and fell into laughter, eyes watering. He folded over himself, wheezing breaths interrupting the stifled, hearty chuckles. Gasping for air, he struggled to speak. "You look...You look fucking ridiculous." One Two pushed him and Bob fell back, knocking against the car bonnet. He slumped over it, slapping the steel with joy.<br/>
"Shut up, bastard. " One Two groaned, tugging on the end of the hoodie. His cheeks felt warm. "Anno, I look like a bleeding egit, but it's not that funny. "<br/>
"It is." Bob mumbled out, peeking over his shoulder at One Two only to bow over the bonnet again, back shaking. "It really is."<br/>
One Two gestured to Bob, anger flaring in him, steam-rolling his embarrassment. "Its just a cover for this gig, not like I'd wear it meself. Why do you look so good, asshole? Christ, if Cookie gave me this crap to fuck with me, I'll smash his face in."  Pausing, Bob whirled around, crossing the distance between them with a single, wide step. His lighthearted smile somehow felt rare. Bob always grinned or smirked, but never so honestly, so warmly.<br/>
One Two wanted to smile back but the sudden proximity made him uncomfortable. Ever since Bob 'came out', it always felt just a little uncomfortable when he was around. His skin felt too tight, hot and misplaced on his bones. The hair on the back of his neck raised and he reached back to rub at the tingling sensation on his nape.<br/>
"You think I look good?" Raising a brow, Bob stared up at him with playful eyes. His voice had lightened to that sugar glazed, seductive tenor he used on Bertie and the breathy sound licked up his spine.<br/>
One Two froze. He felt like a fox and Bob was the hunter. First, Bob forced him into a tight enclosure with his teasing, blocked any exits with his shorter, but incredibly powerful presence and then smoked him out with that voice, only to crush him to death beneath the weight of his own discomfort.<br/>
Why did One Two feel like this? Everyone else handled Bob's sexuality with a certain amount of grace and kind understanding, knew of his preferences from the moment they met. One Two tried, he really did, but something about homosexuality unnerved him greatly.<br/>
...Or rather, something about Bob being a homosexual.</p><p>It felt like a mistake somehow.<br/>
One Two knew Handsome Bob; the lady's man, the getaway driver, the soft spoken member of The Wild Bunch. That was the person he thought of as a friend, trusted with his life.<br/>
The poof Bob who did things with other men that he would never understand, who flirted shamelessly, who sometimes looked distant and felt like he was in another world... One Two didn't know that Bob. The friendship they had disintegrated when he found out the truth and each time One Two tried to build it back up, Bob tore it down again with an ambiguous wink and a few debauche words. He loved Bob like a younger brother, but he didn't know if that was enough to fix whatever it was Bob's sexuality had broken.<br/>
Out of control, off-balance and anxious – One Two wondered if Bob delighted in forcing him into uncomfortable situations like he was right now. He just had to ignore it, push past the awkward tension and constant confusion being near Bob bore.</p><p> "...Fuck off." One Two muttered awkwardly, brushing past the shorter man and heading to the car. He moved around to the passenger door and looked over at his friend. "Your driving."<br/>
"How unexpected." Bob drawled, pulling out his keys and hitting the unlock button. It beeped and One Two opened the car door, sliding inside. Nestling into the comfy interior, he stretched out in his horrid tracksuit. He forced a smile at Bob, when the latter hopped in next to him.<br/>
Bob looked him over and chuckled. "The chav threads are sort of growin' on me. They suit you, in a strange way."<br/>
"Don't say that, Bobski." One Two groaned, as Bob started the engine and pulled away from the curbside. "It ain't a compliment. Know the address? "<br/>
"Yeah. Think everything will go down easy?"<br/>
"Dunno." One Two laughed, pulling the gun from his waistband and tossing it onto the dashboard. It dug into his spine when he was seated. "But we'll make it work."<br/>
"Makin' it work." Eyes crinkling, Bob's hands moved to the gear stick, dexterous and skilled. "That's kind of your specialty, One Two."<br/>
"Really?"<br/>
Bob nodded and One Two stared out the windscreen, watching the people and buildings pass. </p><p>It would probably be a long drive, but One Two didn't mind.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>The building stood four floors high.<br/>A redbrick apartment block, with columns of windows and two steel grate balconies on the top story. A rusted black gate lead to the wild and overgrown garden, and weeds sprouted in the cracks along the path to the front door. Two dumpsters toppled over on the pavement and spilled a rotten, obnoxiously potent scent of spoiled milk and mouldy clothes through the car's open window.<p> "So, this is it..." One Two frowned, a little disappointed. He had not known what to expect, but the simple building looked plain and far more drab than the lavish, mobster-affiliated mansion he anticipated. It appeared just like any other building along the street, but poorly maintained and apparently harbouring a shady answer to the question: How would the Wild Bunch get into a safety deposit box without a key?<br/>
One Two suddenly felt like this was all one big joke from Archy and he hadn't quite gotten the punchline.<br/>
"Not much." Bob agreed, leaning against the wheel and peering out through the windscreen. Sighing, One Two tugged the rearview mirror to face him and examined his features. His hair looked sufficiently messy in a not-sexy way and he slapped a sly smirk across his face for good measure. Glancing to Bob, he gestured with a sloppy grandiosity that breathed just the right amount of arrogance and inflated ego to solidify his disguise.<br/>
"Let's get 'is over with, mate." He adopted a British accent, something similar to Bob's, slurring every 't' into the following letters of each word. Rather than the musical rhythm of his glaswegian accent, the East Ender one had a drawl to it, tongue grazing the top of his mouth to form each syllable.<br/>
Bob stared, eyes scrutinizing his appearance. One Two smiled and the shorter man suddenly leaned closer. Resting his elbow against the gear stick, Bob pulled the cap off his head and placed it on One Two's.<br/>
"There." He mumbled, whirling to push open the driver door and jump out of the car. One Two stared after him for a moment. Touched the peak of the cap and pulled it down lower over his wavering gaze. He could feel the ghost of Bob's knuckle grazing the shell of his ear. It felt itchy.<br/>
"Come on, One Two." Bob called, walking in front of the car and knocking on his window. One Two reached for his gun, sliding it into his sweatpants. He pushed the door open and stepped out, stretching to his full height. He stood at about an inch taller than Bob. Then, remembering his character, he slouched his shoulders, form hunching. He stuck a hand in his pocket, pulled up his boxers specifically – not the low-lying pants, grazing the underside of his arse – and then bounced up to the gate. Bob followed, looking broad and significantly scary. It didn't suit him. Shyness suited Bob. And soft laughter from the corner of the room and warm eyes bleeding affection.<br/>
The cold gaze Bob swept over the apartment building seemed wrong. </p><p>One Two rested a hand on the rusted gate, pushed it open and walked down the narrow pathway leading to the front door. As he approached, the soft thumping of EDM music pounded in the air, an echoing pulse shaking his bones. Distantly, he  heard a dog barking from the backyard. He stopped in front of the door, Bob at his side. Glancing to the window on his left, he spotted two men leaning on the mantel of a fireplace, before Bob reached over his shoulder to knock on the door.<br/>
A few moments passed and the door folded open. Music rushed at One Two with the force of a good punch. He rocked back on his heels, the blow of synthesized drums and instruments hitting him hard. When he balanced himself, a skinny man in a dirty white vest and a pair of sagging jeans greeted them in the threshold. Eyes the colour of stone watched them for a moment, then the man cocked a brow.<br/>
"Need somfin'?" He shook his patchy buzzed head from side to side, sighing. "I ain't turnin' the music down, for the last bleedin' ti–"<br/>
"Archy sent us." One Two interrupted, spread his hands and shrugged. "Said youse got somfin' we need." The man froze up, eyes rounding before he peaked out of the doorframe. He glanced up the street and at the car parked behind them.<br/>
Then, he frowned. "And we would be?"<br/>
"Michael, but everybody calls me Mike." He gestured to Bob, clapping a hand to his companion's shoulder. "N' this 'ere is Lil' Birdie."<br/>
"You wot?" The man scrunched up his face and Bob snapped his gaze to him, lips pinching shut.<br/>
One Two swallowed a laugh. "Lil' Birdie? You never 'eard of 'im? He's only one of the best up-n-comin' artists in all of East End. Professional DJ and Rapper." One Two gestured to himself, feigning pride. "I write the songs."<br/>
"Oh? Where did the name come from?" The man asked, curious. He seemed to relax, the earlier hesitant and suspicious stance melting away.<br/>
"Well..." One Two resisted the urge to move his hands as he spoke. He always liked to articulate his speech with gestures to make sure everyone understood his point, but the persona of Mike needed to keep his hands in his pockets.<br/>
He had to stay in character.<br/>
...But that didn't mean he couldn't get creative.</p><p> "Since he was a kid, he always was musically inclined. Liked singing and rapping and beatboxing. Wouldn't shut up no matter who asked. People usually said he was like a little bird tweeting in the morning'. Ever 'ear of mockingbirds? They can imitate any animal call. Even dogs and cats. Lil' Birdie 'ere has the same ability. Name anyone – any fucking singer – and I guarantee he can replicate their voice exactly."<br/>
Bob fidgeted, distraught as he pulled on the edge of his hoodie. "Oi, uh, Mike...I'm really not that–"<br/>
"Don't be shy!" One Two exclaimed, flashing his partner a mischievous grin, before pushing his way into the house. The man moved aside without much resistance, letting them both in. "You've got talent and you have to show it. " Leaning in to the  Skinhead, One Two whispered conspiratorially. "He's got a bad case of stage fright. Freezes up the moment lights are on him."<br/>
"Must be hard for business." The Skinhead nodded, genuinely intrigued.<br/>
"Eh? We do what we can with what we 'ave, right Lil' Birdie?"<br/>
Bob perked up, trailing behind the pair. "Um...yes?"<br/>
One Two judged the man, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "What's you name, mate? Don't think we've met."<br/>
"Jaime." He offered, smiling brightly. "I'm new 'round here."<br/>
"Well, no wonder I didn't recognise you!" Glancing over his shoulder, One Two pointed at the shorter man. "This is the newcomer Jaime. You'll have to perform for him."<br/>
"I really don't think that's a good idea, Mike." Bob grit out. One Two smirked at him, before turning away.<br/>
"Nonsense." He assured. "No need to be nervous in front of friends. We're friends, right Jaime?" They turned into the living area. The room was small, double doors pushed open to reveal a kitchen to their left. One Two cringed at the interior design; a mixture of clashing styles. It ranged from chiq black and white polka-dot curtains, to a traditional turquoise shaggy rug and to one faux leather couch, sporting diamond buttons along the seams. Two men spoke quietly beside the fireplace and when they entered the room, one turned down the EDM music.</p><p>A silence ensued.<br/>
Jaime did not seem to notice. "Y...Yeah, we're friends. But if Lil' Birdie is uncomfortable, he really doesn't have to–"<br/>
"Jaime!" One of the men interrupted. His long blonde hair was tied back into a bun and he had a lazy eye. "Who the fuck are these wankers?"<br/>
"Billy, it's alright! This is–"<br/>
"Alri', alri'." One Two splayed his hands and stepped further into the room. The man next to Billy reached for a switchknife on the mantelpiece. "No need to be so 'ostile. This 'ere is Lil'Birdie and I'm Mike. Archy sent us."<br/>
Jaime piped up, excited. "They're musical artists!"<br/>
"What the bloody 'ell is a bunch of musical artists doing 'ere?" Billy continued, glancing between Jaime and the man beside him.<br/>
"Billy, right?" One Two cocked his head to the side. "You ain't the fella I'm lookin' for, so its really none of your business."<br/>
"Cheeky prick!" Billy darted forward, but his friend caught his arm, holding him back. Jaime, looking skittish, addressed the stranger.<br/>
"Henry...They're decent blokes." He shrank beneath Henry's stare, glancing to the floor. "Ain't nobody know this address, but Archy and other customers. S'not like they could find this place if they were the fuzz or somefin'... "<br/>
"We have to be careful, Jaime." Henry spoke with a deep gravel. Though his sentences were quiet and clipped, Billy and Jaime hung on every word. "Next time, I'll answer the door."<br/>
"Okay..." Dejected, Jaime plopped down on the couch, throwing his feet up on the glass coffee table.</p><p> Assessing the situation, One Two gathered that Henry was the boss of this trio, but still not the man they were looking for.<br/>
What was his best move in this situation...?<br/>
Meeting Bob's steady gaze, he dove straight into action, pushing any concerns to the back of his mind. If things went to shit, he had his gun and the best gettaway driver in England.<br/>
He liked those odds.<br/>
"Great to meet you all!" One Two announced, clapping his hands. "I'm here, because I need to get into a certain place without no one knowin'. "<br/>
"Where?" Henry pocketed his switchblade and sat on the cushioned windowledge. Billy remained by the fireplace, glaring heatedly.<br/>
"A safe." One Two half-lied with a shrug. "Lil' Birdie and I have major competition in the talent show held next Tuesday at Barney's. There's this lady with a dog she trained to do flips and handstands. They have a dancin' routine, but I'm pretty sure she's using 'armful calmers on the poor Pomeranian. 'Eard 'round town, she keeps them in a safe in her bedroom. If I find them, I can have her disqualified."<br/>
"What?" Jaime glanced up, horrified. "That's terrible. How could she use such things on the poor animal?  Wilbur's out back, he's my dog by the way, and I'd never put him at risk for some lousy performance."<br/>
"Really?" Acting as if he hadn't heard the dog barking on the way in, he feigned surprise and excitement. "What breed? I have a Yorkshire Terrior."<br/>
"A Dobberman!" Jaime enthused. One Two paused, facial muscles tightening.<br/>
If they needed to escape quickly, having a vicious Dobberman guarding the backyard could be problematic. He hoped it was chained securely.<br/>
He forced a smile. "Oh? Full breed?"<br/>
"No, he's crossed with a Rottweiler."<br/>
One Two exhaled sharply, grinding his teeth. "Lovely."<br/>
"You plan on breaking into a safe for a silly talent show?" Billy commented, dryly. "Sounds suspicious."<br/>
"Do you realise how important public opinion of us is?" Rolling his eyes, One Two pressed a hand to his forehead dramatically. "When you're self-employed musical artists, you have to find any way to get the word out about you. If we win this talent show, we get free promotion for our latest album: Juicy Melons."<br/>
Blushing, Jaime chuckled nervously. "I like the sound of that."<br/>
"Maybe we'll give you a demo." One Two winked.<br/>
"And him?" Henry pointed at Bob, who startled, eyes wide. "Why is he so quiet?" Bob opened his mouth to reply, but One Two cut in smoothly.<br/>
Lazily, he flexed his fingers. "He's resting his voice for the talent show. Can't have him catching a cold after I've done this much. "<br/>
"Hmm." Leaning forward, Henry perched his elbows on his knees and pinned an invasive stare on them. Thankfully, One Two was used to Bob staring at him with much more vigor, so he didn't feel all that intimidated. "So, Archy recommended you come here to break into this safe?"<br/>
"Yeah. Said we'd owe him a favour." One Two shrugged. "I don't mind much, seems like a good guy."<br/>
Billy scoffed. "These idiots don't even realise what they've gotten themselves into, do they?"<br/>
"Shut up, Bill." Henry smiled blandly. "So, who are you here to see?" One Two hesitated, glancing between the occupants of the room. Only when he focused on the cool steel against the curve of his back, could he speak calmly.</p><p> "Colin McKierney."</p><p>The room fell silent and the trio glanced between each other. One Two looked to Bob, nervous and his partner responded with equal wariness. Henry shifted back, looking out the window and Jaime jumped to his feet.</p><p> "Can I?" Skinhead Jaime intoned, excited. Henry nodded once, gesturing to the blonde by the fireplace.<br/>
"Take Billy." Henry reached over to the stereo and turned up the volume once more. A new song played, something with electric guitars and screaming vocalists tearing their throats out. Henry listened to it, eyes closed, as if he was a socialist relaxing to a fine opera. Billy pushed away from the mantelpiece and bounded toward One Two.<br/>
Jaime followed, smiling kindly. "I'll show you Wilbur later!"<br/>
"Ugh, piss off, Jamie." Shouldering passed, Billy lead the group out into the hallway and to a set of wooden stairs. They ascended two flights and came out on a filthy landing. Lime green wallpaper peeled away from the parallel walls and the carpet had stains everywhere, nails poking out from the skirting board. The organic smell of weed, musty and recognisable, permeated the air, along with sweat and mould. Coming to a stop outside a door marked 25, Billy turned to them.<br/>
"Don't annoy 'em." The blonde warned, grabbing the handle and pushing down. "They'll skin you alive and sell your parts on the black market, even if  you know Archy." </p><p>The door creaked open and they entered the large, lavish room. A wide lounge opened up before One Two; boasting grandiose golden and onyx themes. Two windows spanned the wall and a frosted glass port-hole one might find on a boat, peaked out from behind a wooden folding shoji screen. Rich fabrics - all expensive brands - hung from the lattice design in elegant sweeps of chiffon and gossamer. Patterns splattered over the rice wallpaper, intricate bird designs and blossoming flowers. A mannequin stood in the corner of the room, draped with lavender strips of silk pinned together as a flowing gown and a string of pearls knotted halfway. There was a small sitting area; three leather armchairs and a striped chaise lounge circling a woven, designer rug. A chandelier of frozen tear drops twinkled overhead and a liquor cabinet leaned against a glass table where three square glasses waited patiently. A gold case lay open, a single rolled cigarette nestled in the red velvet lining.<br/>
A woman appeared from behind the shoji screen, strutting into the room in a pair of expensive high-tops and a Gucci suit. Grey cigarette pants clung to the curve of her thigh and calves, cutting off mid-shin. The red and grey chequered design stretched to her finely-fitted suit jacket, hanging open to reveal a simple red camisole. A white-gold necklace dipped at her breast bone and a sparkling, clear diamond hung just above her small breasts. As she approached, she stared down at her phone and hauled a black, garment bag over her shoulder. Hanging it on the wall by the door, she gestured to the leather armchairs and typed furiously on her IPhone. One Two watched her for a moment, then caught Bob's wrist and dragged him to the chairs.</p><p>Sitting down in the armchair, he ran a hand over the real leather. It felt new, unused. As if no one ever sat in it before and yet there was no dust, no impressions or cracks. In fact everything in the room, looked misplaced. Not because of the stark contrast between downstairs and this room, but the newness.<br/>
Everything, even the woman, felt brand new and far too expensive for this part of town.<br/>
Billy and Jamie entered the room and the woman pocketed her phone. She gravitated to the liquor cabinet and One Two watched her pour three glasses of bourbon. Lifting the cigarette case, she pocketed it and carried the three drinks over. Placing two glasses carefully on the table in front of Bob and One Two, she grabbed her own glass and sighed. She sauntered to the sitting area and plopped down in the centre of the chaise lounge.<br/>
Billy and Jaime flanked her from behind. Jaime smiled, but Billy glared at them both.<br/>
"Well..." The woman began, voice like raspberry jam - dark  luxurious, with a bitter tang. A chin-length bob contoured her face, baby bangs cut in a blunt, straight line just above her arched brows. Reaching up with dainty, pale hands, she tucked inky, sleek tresses behind her ears and smiled at them. Words rolled off her tongue smoothly, the tinge of a French accent slipping past lips stained the colour of blood. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. Please have a drink. Whatever business you are here for may be urgent, but surely you can relax for just a moment." She had cat-eyes, coloured a warm hazel, and her nose was long, slender. Freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks and she had a square jawline. One Two found himself stunned at her beauty.<br/>
The kind of sex appeal pouring from her was only ever associated with the rich or criminals - a mixture of luxury and danger. One Two couldn't help, but switch on the charm, when this close to a bird so fine.<br/>
He grinned, flashing his teeth. "For you, beautiful, I have all the time in the world." One Two almost forgot his accent, but regained half-way through his sentence. He hoped no one had noticed.<br/>
The woman lifted her glass, as if to cheers and One Two scrambled to grab his glass, raising it as well. Bob begrudgingly followed suit with a frown. Their glasses clinked and One Two  gulped down the bourbon easily. The French woman drank just as easily, but Bob struggled a bit, coughing lightly as he wiped his mouth.<br/>
"Your names?" The woman asked politely. One Two leaned forward, taking another sip from his glass.<br/>
"When asking for names, a lady should give hers first." He winked and Bob and Billy glared at him. Jaime gave him the thumbs-up.</p><p>The woman set down her glass, laughing lightly. The sound was musical, captivating and she placed her hand over her lips, glancing at him coyly. "You have me there. Very well."<br/>
She grinned sharkishly, eyes narrowing to slits. </p><p> "My name is Colin McKierney."</p><p> One Two and Bob froze, glancing at each other in surprise and alarm. The woman looked amused by their expressions and waved to grasp their attention.<br/>
"Bonjour, mes amis. I've heard you've been looking for me." One Two stared at the woman, truly awed by her appearance and her true identity. This was the guy Archy put them in touch with? The one who could help them break into the safety box at Balthorne? The one Billy warned them not to anger?<br/>
One Two hadn't expected a woman, sexist as it sounded. Women were rare to find his business. Especially ones so beautiful.<br/>
When he did find some, they were cruel and vindictive – people to watch out for, more so than men.</p><p>At once, he was on guard and watchful, but still a tiny bit intrigued sexually. What? He couldn't control his cock, now could he? It was all physiological.<br/>
Bob spoke basically for the first time since entering the buildin g, startling Jaime and Billy. "You're Colin?"<br/>
"Yes. Surprising?" Her eyes curved slightly. "It's not my real name, but one I've developed for business. Men are more likely to do business with a man than with a woman. Especially if they are, how do you say... more powerful than them? "<br/>
"Oh." Bob squinted, glancing at One Two.<br/>
"So, Colin's a bird. Good enough for me." One Two shrugged. "Let's get to business. Bob–Lil'Birdie and I need somefin' to break into a safe. Archy sent us here, said you could help."<br/>
"He did?" She ran a hand through her fringe and then checked the expensive watch on her wrist, encrusted with diamonds. "Very well. See that back room there? Jaime and Billy will escort you inside. It's my factory. Joel will give you what you need." The woman stood and picked up her glass, placing it back near the cabinet.<br/>
One Two stood too, Bob following. "Thank you!"<br/>
She waved them off and whipped out her phone once more, typing speedily.<br/>
Billy and Jaime moved past the shoji screen and deeper into the room, coming to a stop at the door with the port-hole window. Steam fogged the glass so One Two couldn't catch a glimpse of what lay beyond the door. Billy turned to them.<br/>
"Don't touch anything." He spat. "You're lucky Boss even let you in."<br/>
"Colin McKierney, huh?" One Two wondered, glancing back to admire the woman. "That's one beauty."<br/>
"Shut up." Bob rolled his eyes and the Scotsman nudged his friend playfully.<br/>
"This is great! We've almost got we came for." One Two whispered, jovially.<br/>
Bob shifted uneasily. "I have a bad feeling."<br/>
"What's there to worry about, we've got this in the bag."<br/>
"Yep." Bob groaned. "You jinxed it."</p><p> Billy pushed open the door to a flight of stairs. They descended quickly, travelling deeper and deeper, even further than they had ascended. Finally, they reached a small steel door that was locked. Jaime typed in a code and the lock popped open, door creaking out wide.<br/>
Steam billowed into the stairway, smacking One Two in the face. He stumbled back, hat blown off his head. Bob reached down to pick it up and placed it on his own head, backwards. He smiled at One Two and the two delved into the factory, after Billy and Jaime. Metal screeched against metal, the scent of oil and ash and fiery sparks of electricity. The steam cleared to reveal an open basement, almost the size of a warehouse. Smoke hovered in the air above them in a thin cloud, sucked from the room by powerful air conditioners. Cubicles were lined side by side, squished together tightly with a pathway cutting through the center. In each cubicle, there were workers in overalls who fiddled with a collection of tubes and beakers. One Two spotted blue crystals and then pointedly, turned his eyes to the floor.<br/>
He tugged on Bob's sleeve. "Don't look at anything. Best to be blind in this situation."<br/>
"Alright..." Bob frowned, but obeyed his command and stared at the floor. Curses, crashing and bubbling liquids sounded from either side, but neither raised their head. They travelled further and further into the room and then came to a stop at a cubicle marked 179. Billy stood next to it and Jaime stepped inside, gesturing for them to follow. A man sat at a desk, hunched over a microscope and picking at something with tweezers. He whirled around in his chair when Jaime coughed and eyed up the inhabitants of his cubicle. </p><p>Pulling up the goggles over his brown curls, he peered at One Two and Bob, with honey eyes. He had young features, a hare's lip and a surprisingly cheerful grin. His cheeks seemed to be permanently dusted with pink and a small gold hoop hung from his left ear.<br/>
"Why, hello there chaps!" The man greeted, voice posh and high, almost feminine. "Good day to you both. Wasn't expecting any visitors, but you are welcome all the same. What is it I can do for you?"<br/>
Jaime sat on the edge of the man's desk and pointed to him. "This is Joel." Joel smiled sheepishly. Jaime pointed to One Two and Bob in turn. "These are Colin's customers – Mike and Lil'Birdie. They're musicians!"<br/>
"Oh, how fascinating!" Joel looked them both over. "How can I be of service? Any customer of Colin's deserves exceptionally biased treatement, wouldn't you agree?"<br/>
One Two laughed. "Well, we'd certainly enjoy it." He gestured between himself and Bob. "We're here for somefin' that can break into a safe. See, we're–"<br/>
"No, no. Details are unnecessary here." Joel turned back to his desk and pulled out a tablet. He opened an app and started drawing with a stylus. "All I need to know about is the safe itself. Size?"<br/>
"Height of 11.8 by Width 11 with dimensions of 18.1 inches." Bob recited and One Two sighed in relief. He had forgotten.<br/>
Joel looked at Bob. "Wouldn't happen to know what type of steel it's made of, would you?"<br/>
"Tungsten steel." One Two patted Bob' shoulder and smiled at him.<br/>
"Good memory, Lil'Birdie."<br/>
Joel whistled, slumping back in his seat. He stared at his tablet and then, turned to the group. He showed them the tablet and the image of the digital, 3-D model of the safe he constructed. "This is the safe you described, roughly. It's pretty big, pricey too. Not to mention the steel. Tungsten is the same stuff bullets are made from. Heavy-duty and practically impenetrable. Whatever this safe is holding, must be very valuable or very illegal. "<br/>
Jaime jumped to attention. "That's proof then! The lady with the pomerian is definitely using harmful sedatives." He looked to One Two and Bob, eyes determined. "Don't worry. We'll get you into that safe, no matter what!"<br/>
One Two smirked. "Appreciate it."<br/>
"The only way to get into something like this..." Joel scrolled on his tablet, then fished through his drawers. "Where is it, where is it?" He tapped Jaime's leg. "Excuse me."<br/>
Jaime shifted aside. "Oh, sorry."<br/>
Joel pulled open a drawer and rooted through a bunch of wires and trinkets. He pulled out a gold key and grinned excitedly. "Ordinarily, I'd suggest a band saw or a Magnum to break open the lock or even a smart bomb to just blow the door off, but–!" He jumped from his chair, standing even shorter than Bob and rushed to a picture hanging from the wall. He pushed it aside to reveal a silver safe, which he unlocked with the key and opened. "I'm assuming you need something quiet and discreet, something nobody would notice. Well..." He reached into the safe and hefted out a smaller box with a wheeze, face turning red. He placed the box on his desk and then flung the lid open. "This will do the trick!"<br/>
Jaime, One Two and Bob leaned forward to look inside and even Billy peaked around the cubicle.</p><p>Inside, there was a small device with a steel strip poking from its center to the lip of a flat, circlular base. A red dot flickered on and off on the strip of steel and there was a silver button at the center of the device. </p><p>One Two frowned. "What is it?"<br/>
"Glad you asked!" Joel practically screeched, reaching inside the box to grab the device. He brandished it in front of the group of four. "Actually, before Colin hired me, I worked at a Tech Firm in Bournemouth. It was boring work, developing new phones, computers, etc. But I had bigger ideas, I wanted to explore weapons and technology that technically defied health and safety restrictions. Frankly those restrictions just crush creativity." Joel huffed petulantly, sticking his nose in the air. "Colin scouted me from that terrible firm and promised I could do whatever I liked here. This happens to be my very first creation after I started here. Not only is it durable, effective and 70% safe..."<br/>
Bob nudged One Two and whispered. "What about the other thirty?"<br/>
"But, it's also easy to use. All you do is press this button here, wait for the red button to blink five times andthen bingo! It'll break into the safe in twenty minutes." Proudly, Joel held his device for all to see, incredibly chuffed with himself.<br/>
One Two blanched. "Twenty minutes?" He couldn't help the Scottish accent that bled into his words in surprise.<br/>
Bob hurried to distract everyone from his mishap. "Seems like an awfully long time. We want to be in and out of there quickly."<br/>
Joel blushed. "Uh, I-I realised. I'm working on a faster version, but unfortunately that may take a few years to finish. It is one of my first desgins. But, I assure you I have newer, better products for all your needs."<br/>
"We'll take it." One Two groaned, eager to leave Colin's factory. "Not like we'll get a better offer."<br/>
"Great!" Joel smiled, holding out the device. "Do you want the box too? And do you prefer to pay in cash or credit card?"<br/>
One Two hesitated. "Eh, sure? And Archy will foot the bill. Put it on his tab."<br/>
"Brilliant!" Joel stuffed the device in the box and handed it to One Two with the key. "Fantastic! I hope everything goes well with you two. Let me know if it works!"<br/>
"If it works...?" One Two's eyes narrowed suspiciously and Joel stumbled back, waving his arms.<br/>
"Ah, no. I mean, of course, it will work. Obviously. There's no reason it wouldn't." He glanced to the side. "Just let me know if it works again, for research purposes."<br/>
"Right." One Two looked at Bob and the two left the cubicle with Jaime and Billy.<br/>
"Thanks for the help, Joel." Bob spoke as he left, but the man was already back at his desk, tinkering with something.<br/>
"Don't mind him." Jaime offered, smiling. "His creations always work."<br/>
"Yeh, 70% of the time." One Two snipped, holding the box under his arm. He pocketed the gold key.</p><p>The group ascended the stairs and reached the door with the port-hole once more. Bob opened it and the four stepped into the rich, luxurious room. Colin stood behind the shoji screen and looked up at their arrival.<br/>
"Good, you're back. Not a moment too late." She shoved her phone in her pocket and nodded slightly. Billy and Jaime rushed to her side and took up stance beside her. Colin's hazel eyes almost looked gold under the warm light, as she peered up at them from beneath her bangs. "Gentleman, we seem to have a small situation on our hands."<br/>
"What?" One Two worried, grip tightening on the black box.<br/>
"You see, I rang Archy. He said he does not remember meeting any Mike or Lil'Birdie." Her voice was sharp and steely, cold as it grazed their ears. One Two cursed under his breath. Why didn't  I  tell Archy about our disguises?! Shit!<br/>
The woman glanced between Bob and him. "Fortunately, there is a way you can clean up this sticky situation. Archy remembers talking with some musicians about a safe, but doesn't know any names. All you have to do is prove your identities. You claim to be a rapper and a song writer, correct?"<br/>
Jaime stepped passed Colin and smiled broad. "This is great boss! Mike was telling me all about their latest hit, Juicy Melons, and how Lil'Birdie is really talented. He can impersonate any singer if you ask. That's how he got his name."<br/>
One Two's stomach dropped. Goose flesh broke out across his skin and fear mixed with panic, an ashy taste on his tongue. He glanced to Bob, eyes wide. Did I really say all that? Bob stared back at him in fear. He shook his head sharply, when One Two opened his mouth to speak.<br/>
"Jaime, you've got a really great memory, huh?"<br/>
"It's eidetic, actually!" The skinhead supplied, with an oblivious grin.<br/>
"Wow. That's so great for you." One Two glanced between the occupants of the room. Three to two were pretty good odds, but there was still Henry downstairs and God knows how many in the factory. If they put up a fight now and made too much noise, everyone would come rushing. He swallowed. <i>Think, think One Two! Archy gave us an out. He knew of two musicians who wanted to get into a safe. If we could just somehow prove we are the musicians we claim to be, we can get out of here without raising a fuss. Colin seems like a good ally to have, so I'd prefer if we didn't anger her and accidentally sever ties. What should we do? What can we do?<br/>
There's only one thing.</i></p><p>One Two forced a laugh, giving Bob a meaningful look. "Prove we're musicians? Easy. We'll perform Juicy Melons." Bob gasped and One Two powered through, mindful of the gun in his pants. If things got worse, One Two would pull it and they'd escape the hard way. No matter what, he wouldn't let Bob go down for his extravagant cover. He was the only member of The Wild Bunch with a clean record and the Scotsman didn't plan on tarnishing it yet. "I'll drop the beat, Bob you take vocals, alright? Don't strain yourself though, we still have a performance. "<br/>
One Two started beatboxing terribly, blowing his lips and spitting as he tried to mimic the sounds from the songs that played at the Steeler. Wet air escaped his lips in gas noises rather than a sick beat. Bob looked at One Two, panic evident in his eyes. One Two nodded to him and Bob opened his mouth. Slow and out of tune, Bob started to rap:<br/>
<i>"Eh. Yeah. Whoo. Um...I went to the shop ..."</i><br/>
<i> "Shop." </i> One Two echoed in a higher pitch, before jumping back into beatboxing.<br/>
<i> "L-looking for some fruit... "</i> Bob started to move his hands, back and forth as if to emphasises his freestyle. <i>"But, I didn't have no bop/ To dance to and no...um, suit..."</i> Jaime nodded his head to the non-existent beat, while Colin and Billy watched them in shock.<br/>
Bob continued. <i>"I thought of stealing some plumbs/ I ain't no felon/  But I'd be dumb if I didn't get my... "</i><br/>
<i> "Juicy Melons~"</i><br/>
<i>"Juicy Meloooons."</i> One Two sang with him, voice deep and gruff.<br/>
Bob struggled to hit his note, voice cracking. <i>"Juicy Mel-ons~"</i><br/>
One Two pumped his fist. "Yeah! Yeah!"<br/>
<i> "Juicy Melons~"</i><br/>
"Fricka, Fricka, Fricka, Freshhhhhh." One Two finished, staring at the group before him. Bob looked to One Two, face coloured red with embarrassment. Jaime looked between everyone and smiled. "I like it. Chorus is catchy.<i> Juicy Melons~" </i><br/>
"Shut up, Jaime!" Billy roared, grabbing the skinhead by the collar and dragging him away.<br/>
Colin narrowed her eyes. "They're frauds." She announced, snapping her fingers and moving away. "Get them." </p><p>Billy bolted toward them, whipping out a handgun. One Two tackled Bob to the floor and the two rolled aside, as gunshots pierced the air.<br/>
"Wait! Not the shoji screen, it's the only one of its kind!" Colin called and One Two dove behind the screen, hauling Bob with him. He pulled out his gun, clicked off the safety and exhaled.<br/>
"Bob, lift the screen on three." He ordered and Bob nodded. Footsteps grew closer as Billy approached, skirting round the shoji screen. "One." Billy's shadow passed over the screen, moving closer. "Two." One Two's heart pounded. The barrel of a handgun peaked around the screen, shining a lethal silver under the orange light. "Three!"<br/>
Bob, lifted the screen and One Two aimed down, shooting Billy's foot. He screamed and fell back, gun clattering to the floor.<br/>
"You brought a gun?!" Bob shouted, eyes wide, as blood pooled on the carpet under their feet.<br/>
"You didn't?" One Two flinched as the door behind them opened. He whirled and spotted a group of the factory workers spilling out into the room, armed with rifles. "Fuck! Here." He tossed Bob the handgun and grabbed the screen, flipping it around so it faced the group of workers. "Aim it at Colin."<br/>
Bob obeyed, pointing the barrel of the gun at Colin. Her eyes widened and Jaime hurried to pull out his gun. He poined it at One Two, limply.<br/>
"M-Mike, you lied! Who's are you?" Jaime stuttered, as Colin held up her hands.<br/>
"Name's One Two and this here is Handsome Bob." His Scottish accent bled naturally into his words and he couldn't help the grin that curled his lips. He was excited, blood boiling and heart pounding against his ribs, like a trapped bird. </p><p> "We're from The Wild Bunch."</p><p> Colin's eyes lit with recognition and she growled. "The Wild Bunch? What the fuck are you doing here? Zut! What did they take?!" She stared at the box One Two held. "Get that bo–!"<br/>
Bob raised his gun and she cut herself off, mouth pinching shut tightly. She gestured to the riflemen behind the shoji screen. "Let them go..." She grit out, spittle flying from her mouth and hitting the floor. One Two lead Bob back, holding the screen in front of him like some sort of shield. Bob placed a hand on his back to lead him, so they didn't hit into anything. They passed Jaime, who with tears in his eyes, let them pass. One Two tossed the screen at Jaime, before he bolted out the door with Bob, slamming it shut behind them. They hurried across the landing, racing past doors  and reached the stairs. Stumbling down step after step, they tripped over themselves in their urgency. Gunshots and glass shattering rang out behind them. All at once, a knife whizzed through the air and embedded itself into Bob's arm. He let out a groan, slamming against the wall. One Two looked down the stairs. Henry waited at the bottom. Their eyes clashed and Henry started sprinting up the stairs, a pocketknife in his hand. One Two reeled back, tripped and slid down a few steps. Henry slashed down with the knife and One Two rolled aside. It pierced the carpet next to his face and he gasped. Kicking out, he knocked Henry backwards and hurried back up to Bob. Henry grasped hold of the banister to balance himself and then followed them. Up ahead, One Two spotted Colin and the riflemen charging down toward them. Eyes wide, he reached for his gun only to realise it wasn't there. He gave it to Bob.<br/>
Throwing himself forward, he slumped on top of Bob and pried the gun from his grip. He whirled, shot at Henry and missed.  Panicked, One Two fumbled for the box he held under his arm. He threw the black box at Henry, the heavy wood hitting the man in the face. He stumbled back with a shout and One Two used the distraction to his advantage. He grasped Bob around the torso and shot at the window next to him. The glass panes shattered and One Two rolled over, pulling Bob with him. They both fell out the window, glass nicking One Two's shoulder blade. Hurtling to the ground, One Two had the sense to position himself to take the brunt of the fall, before they hit the grounnd.<br/>
A few bushes cushioned there fall but not much else. Branches snapped under them and the weight of Bob crushed One Two into the ground. His breath left his lungs in a stilted gasp and he cried out in pain, eyes watering. Unable to examine the damage done to his back, he attempted to lift the heavy body off him. Bob groaned, lifted himself up and peered down at One Two.<br/>
"Why did you–"<br/>
"Quick!" One Two exclaimed, wincing. "We have to go! Getaway driver, it's your time to shine, God damn it!"<br/>
Realising the situation, Bob nodded and hauled himself upright. One Two slid out from under him and crawled out of the push. His back really hurt and he struggled to stand. Bob helped him up and then propped him against the man's injured shoulder. They hobbled away from the house, skirting the corner only to come to a dead stop.<br/>
A Dobberman-Rottweiler mutt stared them down, jowls peeled back to reveal, sharp teeth. Drool spilled from its mouth as it growled and it's pointed ears stood upright, at attention. Bob wheezed an exhale and the dog's ear flicked slightly. It crouched, gnashing it's teeth together as it's blackish eyes narrowed to slits. It's head was big, it's body huge and its coat was brown, with one white patch around it's left eye. It prowled closer, nails scraping the concrete slabs. One Two gasped for air, pressing a hand to his aching back.<br/>
"H-h-hold on now. Stay back, good doggy!" One Two waved his hand at the dog, shooing it meekly. "Please don't rip our throats out, mutt!" A gunshot fired overhead, hit the concrete behind them. They jumped, rushing towards the Dobberman without fear. </p><p> "Wilbur." Bob spoke, voice firm and commanding, rumbling out of his chest. "Heel!" The dog paused, tilted its head and then sat back on its hind legs as commanded.<br/>
"How did you...?"<br/>
"My Grandma has dogs. If you use their names, they usually listen." Bob shrugged. "I took a chance."<br/>
One Two smiled. "Good memory, Lil' Birdie."<br/>
"Shut up, that's what got us into this mess." Bob scoffed, reaching down to pat the Dobberman's head as he passed. Wilbur barked happily and followed after them, as they stumbled to the wooden fence. Bob broke off the lock with a rock from the ground and the two pushed the gate open. They hurried out into the driveway and Wilbur darted off down the street, free at last.<br/>
"Wilbur!" Jaime cried from behind them. They looked back to spot the skinhead in the doorway of the house. He aimed his gun at them and started firing as they dashed to the car. The riflemen filtered out into the yard, as Bob hopped into the front seat and One Two slid over the bonnet. He ducked next to the wheel. Bullets ricocheted off the car, piercing through the metal and One Two felt for the handle, pulling open the side door. He hefted himself inside, bowing his head.</p><p> "Drive!"<br/>
Bob twisted the key in the ignition, pulled up the handbrake and sped down the street. Wheels screeched along the road and bullets rang out behind them as they escaped. Bob shot out in front of cars, dodging bullets and twirling at an impossible curve to break away from the traffic and squeeze into a small lane. He slammed his foot on the acceleration and the car shuddered forward at insane speed. After a few minutes of driving, they determined that no one was following them and parked next to an abandoned warehouse. One Two collapsed against his seat, wiping sweat from his brow. He broke into laughter, tears sprouting from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. His face burned red and he coughed as he chuckled loudly. Bob joined him, laughing in relief as he pressed his forehead against the steering wheel.<br/>
"We did it!" He breathed, shoulders shaking with his laughter.<br/>
One Two nodded, eyes slipping closed. "Fuck yes, we did!" He slapped the dashboard.<br/>
"W...Wait, where's the box?" Bob's voice broke through his momentary peace.<br/>
"What box?"<br/>
"The one with the device to break into the deposit box!"<br/>
"Oh, I threw it at that guy. Henry, I think."<br/>
"What, why would you–"</p><p> "Relaaaax." One Two sat up with a groan, leaning over to Bob. Their eyes met and he smirked, pulling the device from his sagging sweatpants. "Voilá!"<br/>
"What?" Bob smiled, glancing between One Two and the device. "How did you manage to...?"<br/>
"Why do you think I made you rap? I took it out of the box, just in case someone managed to pry it from my hands. Misdirection, Bobski. You always need a distraction and a back-up plan."<br/>
Smiling affectionately, Bob laughed. "We wouldn't have needed a back-up plan if you didn't go so overboard with our identities."<br/>
"Fuck off!" One Two growled. "We got it, didn't we? No use worrying over the details."<br/>
" Also, maybe if you weren't drooling over Colin... "<br/>
"Shhhhh..."<br/>
"Or if you remembered the size of the safety deposit box, or the dog's name or–"<br/>
"Alright, alright. Point made." One Two shrugged lifelessly. " It worked out in the end, didn't it? Let's get out of here."</p><p>Bob stared at One Two for a while and then smiled. He merged back into the main road and drove them to The Speeler, well aware that One Two would want to brag before heading home.<br/>
Fondness seeped into his voice.</p><p> "It always does with you."</p>
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